Four Five Six
by secooper87
Summary: As Earth's children are threatened, and the world approaches crisis, Buffy finally discovers what's making her ill.
1. Day 1

Author's Note: If you haven't seen Torchwood's Children of Earth, I'm hoping you'll still be able to know what's going on. I think it's probably much more confusing if you haven't read the stories comprising this current Season of the Child of Balime.

Just in case you've forgotten what was going on before _the Ten Seos_...

Ever since _The Making of Bilis Manger,_ Buffy has been sick with mysterious headaches that make her lose her train of thought and forget whatever she's doing. Martha's been looking into it, and has already announced that she believes the illness is something to do with Time, instead of something to do with aliens. When Seo took Buffy to a hospital on the planet Totania, which specialized in temporal illnesses, the doctors insisted that Buffy wasn't sick at all.

Now...

Time to find out what's really going on.

Enjoy!

* * *

**Day 1.**

* * *

At 8:40 am, Greenwich Mean Time, every single child in the world stopped.

At 8:39 am, Buffy Summers had another dizzy-spell.

Just like before. Except this time it was worse — so much worse! It began with a sudden, splitting headache, tearing across her mind, and then the world began to slide sideways, her vision blurring until she couldn't see what was what, like a thousand transparencies laid one on top of another. A ringing resounded in her ears, and she couldn't think, couldn't remember, couldn't even… stand…

Buffy reached out, grabbed at the railing to one of the houses, nearby. Trying desperately to stop herself from falling down. Except there _wasn't_ a railing there, wasn't anything, and Buffy found herself on the sidewalk. Just hoping this would end. End. END!

The clock ticked to 8:40 am.

The world snapped back into focus.

And Buffy felt fine.

Completely fine. Got up from the sidewalk, seeing the faces of concerned civilians crowding around her — one of them on his phone, calling for an ambulance. Trying to dismiss the nice people who wanted to help and led her to a bench and offered her water. Trying to work out how she'd explain to the ambulance that she didn't need to go to the hospital, she was fine now, would be all the way until the next attack, and no medical equipment in the universe seemed to be able to tell what was wrong with her!

Then Buffy noticed the mother, in the middle of the street, trying desperately to get her child to move. The little girl, looked about 8, stood frozen, a blank expression on her face. Didn't seem to even notice her mom was there.

The ambulance sirens blazed, in the background. Began to approach.

Buffy bolted forwards, jumping off the bench and then launching herself into the air, doing a double-flip over the crowd of people that had surrounded her, then sprinted for the child, grabbing the girl up and shoving her mother away, just as the ambulance screeched on its breaks.

The child still didn't move.

Didn't seem to even register that anything had just happened.

The mom, now splayed out across the pavement, frantically jumped to her feet. Grabbing the girl from Buffy, alternately clutching her and scolding her, clearly terrified and half out of her wits.

The ambulance drivers raced out, too, half checking the girl over for any injuries, the others running to the crowd and asking to get through and reach the emergency patient.

The crowd was just staring at Buffy with their jaws hanging open.

"Is this a joke?" one of the medics who'd come from the crowd said, when approaching Buffy. "You… collapsed — couldn't even stand up — and you're now doing high-level acrobatics?!"

"Look, she's the one who needs an ambulance!" Buffy retorted, indicating the little girl. "Not me! It was just a dizzy spell. I'm…"

Buffy trailed off.

As she looked down the street, at the sidewalk about a block away. Where a mother was trying, desperately, to get a little boy to move.

"No obvious symptoms," said one of the medics examining the girl. "We'll take her in for some tests. Make sure…"

"No, wait!" said Buffy. She sprinted down the street, towards the nearest intersection. Looked both ways.

Four more kids.

All exactly the same.

"It's all of them!" Buffy called back. "All the kids! They've all frozen!"

But no sooner had she said it, then every single child, all at once, resumed. Sometimes in mid-conversation. Once again running and playing and laughing, talking and chatting and crossing the street.

The little girl who'd nearly been run over looked around herself. "What am I doing on the ground?"

Buffy took it in. As she walked back. For a whole minute, the kids had stopped. Hadn't noticed, hadn't realized it was happening. They just… stopped.

"Talk about a Sunnydale moment," Buffy said. Then reached into her pocket to take out her phone. Call up Jack and the others, or maybe Giles, see what she could get on this.

But her phone, when she pulled it out, had already begun to ring.

"Did you see?" came Alison's voice. "All across London! The children just stopped!"

* * *

Giles, naturally, had an enormous pile of books open on his desk, even as Buffy arrived. Alison was right beside him, making exaggeratedly disgusted facial expressions at some of the things written inside of them.

"And back with the magic books," said Buffy, shutting the door behind her. "Just add a few vampire slayings, and it'd be high school all over again." She sat down on the arm of a chair, by a very large stack of books about magical jinxes that can happen to large numbers of children. "Why aren't you at work? I thought the Ministry would be all with the kid-freezing."

"Ministry of _Magic_, maybe," Alison muttered. "Giles thinks it's supernatural." She made a gagging expression, and thrust her book away. "Do _all_ these evil-magic-type things end with the kids being brutally massacred?!"

Giles looked up at Buffy. Peering through his glasses. "This particular incident has been assigned elsewhere," he explained. "Mr. Frobisher did not wish for my assistance when I offered it. I thought perhaps it would be better to approach him, again… when we had more information."

"Or maybe not at all," said Buffy, "if this is magical and not all outer-spacey."

"Hope it's not!" said Alison, slamming down the latest book. "If this is what magic does, I think the kids'll have more luck with the aliens." She got up, headed over to the computer. "This Frobisher bloke. Any chance you have his lot's pass codes on your computer? Something I could hack? We could check up. See what info he's got."

"No such luck," Giles admitted. "But I doubt Home Office will know much more than we do, at this point."

"Yeah, Torchwood doesn't know anything, either," said Buffy, picking up a book and flipping through it. "They're all with the freak-out. Jack told me this stuff's happening across the world. Even in totally random places, like Belgium." She stopped, her eyes skimming the page. Then make a disgusted face and shoved the book away. "Ugh! Alison's right. Let's hope it's not magic."

Alison looked up from the computer. "Torchwood's onto this?"

"So Jack says," replied Buffy.

Alison jumped to her feet. "Then why are we wasting time with this rubbish?" she said, toppling a stack of books to the ground. "Let's go to Cardiff and solve this using high-tech alien gadgets!"

Giles looked like Alison had just slapped him.

"Sorry," Alison said, with a cringe. "But… it's probably not really magic, anyways, is it? Not if it's world-wide." She gestured around herself. "And I'm pretty sure Torchwood has most of these books in ebook format."

Buffy wondered just how many demons Torchwood had introduced into _their_ internet, doing that.

Giles turned back to his books. Sullenly. "Yes. Well. It's just not the same, is it?" Opened another, thumbing through the pages, but clearly not really reading them. "Without the physical book."

Alison looked hopefully at Buffy, as she headed towards the door.

But Buffy wasn't about to trust herself on the road, right now. Didn't know if she'd be able to make it to Cardiff even as a passenger, to be honest.

"I'll… help Giles with his books," Buffy said, sitting down in the chair properly.

Alison paused in her walk. Scrutinizing Buffy, carefully. All mirth falling away from her in an instant.

"And… hey, I mean, if you guys need someone to… snoop around government places or something," Buffy offered, "it'll be good for me to stick around here."

"It happened again, didn't it?" Alison said. "You had another… episode. A bad one."

Buffy tried to paint a picture of total happiness and unconcern on her face. "Of course not," she dismissed. "I'm fine! I just… like Giles' books. That's all."

Alison glanced between Buffy and Giles. Uneasily.

Then took out her car keys. "Anything happens," Alison told the two of them, "you ring me. Got that?"

And left.

For a few moments, neither Giles nor Buffy said anything. The only sound that of the clock, ticking on the wall.

"Was it very much worse, this time?" Giles asked, quietly.

Buffy didn't want to answer that.

Instead picked up another one of Giles' books. Thumbing through the index, trying to find planet-wide spells that caused children to act weird. "Oh, look at that!" She squinted at the name, trying to sound it out. "A demon called… Eg…so…hopskippy…"

Giles put his hand on hers.

Buffy couldn't meet his eyes.

"Did Martha find anything, yet?" Giles asked.

"She's… looking," Buffy admitted. Sighed, folding her hands over the book. "She's pretty sure it's something temporal. And that it's either specific to Earth, or that I'm too Line Hopper-y and confusing for the magic-space-people on that Toto world to figure me out."

Giles frowned.

"She doesn't think it's a tumor," Buffy put in. "She says… it's probably something Bilis Manger set off in my head, or… temporal debris from that Zen-12 bomb thingy, back in Sunnydale. She's… tracking down a time-sensitive in Mongolia. He's known to deal with this kind of thing."

Giles nodded.

"And then Seo and Dawn are off somewhere else in time and space," said Buffy, "tracking down whatever lead they have for a cure. And Martha's sent that Ricky guy of hers off to Madagascar, for some maybe-cure thing I can't pronounce. And Felix and my other UNIT buddies are all in the Amazon, trying to find something they think could help. And…" She grimaced, reflecting on this. "You know, my illness might have taken all the best planet-savers out of commission."

"Your health is important," Giles said. "We're all worried."

"Yeah, but if this kid-freezing-thing turns into something big," Buffy pointed out, "I think I've single-handedly doomed the world."

Giles shot her a pointed stare.

And Buffy sunk her head even further into her book. Didn't want to talk about this, anymore.

"You're frightened," said Giles. "I understand. But we care about you. The world… recognizes how important you are. That's why so many people are trying to help."

Buffy looked up at him. "Weird thing is… I'm not nearly as freaked as everyone else," she admitted. "I mean, I get that I should be scared, I get that I could die from this, but… part of me… can't process that it's real."

Giles nodded.

Buffy slammed down her book. "Just… you know!" she said, popping to her feet. Pacing around the front of Giles' house. "I spent so long being terrified of monsters and vampires and aliens, and the end of the world or the end of the universe, or my daughter blowing us all sky high, or… whatever." She turned on Giles. "I always figured… that was it! I'm the Slayer. I'm gonna die fighting."

Giles took off his glasses. Eyes never leaving her.

"And then something like this happens," Buffy said, "and… and it's just… I can't…"

"It's not a monster in front of you," Giles understood. "And so your mind can't process it as a real threat."

Trust Giles to get it completely.

Buffy threaded her hands through her hair. "And I'm doing that thing, again. You know? Where I keep finding evil alien plots and stuff, and thinking, 'Hey! This must be why I'm sick! It's all part of some massive alien-magic-demon conspiracy thing! Like the kind I'm good at fighting.'" She sucked in a sharp breath. "But I did that with Mom. And it wasn't magic. It was just… what happened."

"Martha will find the answer," Giles promised her. "I'm certain."

Buffy nodded. But didn't say anything, as they remained in silence a few seconds longer. Waiting as the world worried for its children.

"It's _not_ connected to this kid-thing, right?" Buffy double-checked. "I mean, just because I collapsed right before the kids…"

She caught the look on Giles' face.

And grimaced. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. None of the other weird alien things that happened around me were connected, so there's no chance that this one is. It was just bad timing."

"I'm sorry," said Giles. "Really. I am."

Buffy nodded. Then stopped. Eyes fixed on the computer Alison had left sitting on the table. Her brow furrowing.

"That… government place," Buffy said, walking towards the computer. "The one that's handling this kid-thing. What kind of encryption key are they using to protect their data?"

Giles blinked. Stared. "I'm sorry?"

"I just… well, you know," said Buffy, faltering a little. "If they do know something. They're not just gonna leave it lying out for us to find, or…" She noticed the astonished look on Giles' face, and took a step back. "Yeah, okay, I get it. Buffy-no-go-near-computer."

Giles still just stared.

"Yeah, I think… I'll get back to the books," Buffy said, sliding down into a nearby chair. "Definitely. Books."


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note: Okay, lots of reviews from people who are very distressed that I'm now posting the story that kills Ianto. From reading the Ten Seos, of course, you all know that I am sticking to canon; Ianto does die during the 456 invasion. But... to be honest... Ianto isn't really _in _this story.

Sorry about that.

While it is true that the events that take place on Earth are the same as canon, my plot has a kind of different focus. Ianto's death is in here, yes... but not in a very big way. Although it's a huge plot point to the Torchwood story, it's a rather minor plot-point in mine.

So, basically, sorry. There's nothing I can do for Ianto.

But... just a hint to all my readers out there... I'd start focusing your worry on some of the characters in _this_ plot.

Because... some of them are in a very large amount of trouble. And others, thanks to the Tenth Seo interfering and giving them information they shouldn't have... are about to - as Tenth Seo puts it - "walk right into a trap."

So.

Thanks for all the reviews! Hope this little author's note serves as a response to them all at once.

Enjoy!

(To respond to "guest": Alison does still work for Torchwood, but she's been sticking close to Buffy, recently, because she's worried about Buffy. It's probably safe to say that Alison has worked this out with Jack, who's quietly given Alison permission to do as much alien-fighting with Buffy as possible, even if that keeps her away from Cardiff. After all, he's worried about Buffy, too.)

* * *

At 9:30 am, Buffy and Giles were at Home Office. Waiting, politely, to try to talk to someone in charge.

At 10:10 am, Buffy and Giles were still waiting.

At 10:15 am, Buffy stepped outside to take a phone call. From Jack.

"Martha's on holiday," said Jack, "and I can't get through to anyone useful at Home Office. Think you can head on over there and work a little of that Buffy-charm?"

She could almost hear the wink in his voice, as he said it.

"You mean the charm that makes me decapitate stuff?" Buffy asked. "Because Giles and I have been waiting for 45 minutes, now, and… yeah. I'm pretty much there."

At 10:20 am, Buffy was on the verge of tearing the damn door off its hinges, racing into that Mr. Furby-whatever-his-name-was' office, and slamming him against the wall until he told her something.

"I think using your powers might not be the best… diplomatic tactic, at the moment," Giles warned her. "Home Office requires… patience. There's always a lot of paperwork to be completed. Forms to be filled out. People to be consulted with. It's a delicate operation."

"I remember another group like that," said Buffy. "One Caleb and a bunch of dynamite later, and they became an un-group."

By 10:24, Giles had managed to calm Buffy down. Convinced her to go outside, get some air. Take a break.

Which was why Buffy was outside at 10:26 am.

Which was the precise moment Buffy had another attack.

It struck her, just like the last. Just as bad. Shuddering through her, blurring her vision and making the world spin. Things lost their shape, and she just couldn't cling on. It would go away, she knew it would go away, but it didn't! It lingered there, in the midst of pain and confusion, and she didn't know who she was or where she was, or what was going on. Couldn't remember if this was Sunnydale, or if this was Cleveland, or maybe she was in Cameroon with Martha, or…

"Benjy!" Buffy called out. But, no. Benjy was dead. Wasn't he? "Angel!" she tried, but that wasn't right, either. She couldn't remember. Started calling for them all — Spike, Riley, the Doctor, Scott Hope and Satsu and Owen Thurman and—

Then the world went clear, again.

It was 10:30 am. And Buffy found herself in an ambulance. Rushing towards the hospital. But the driver had slammed on his breaks. Was now blaring his siren, trying to direct traffic so he could get through.

"What…?" said one of the medics.

"Some kids on a school trip, playing a joke or something," said the driver. "Teachers these days — no discipline!"

Buffy sat bolt-upright. Found Giles right beside her, trying to urge her to lie down.

But she wouldn't. Couldn't.

"The kids, again," Buffy said. She jumped out of the stretcher, dodging when medical professionals reached out to help her, weaving past limbs and helping hands to grab at the back-doors and force them open.

Leaping outside and racing towards the kids.

Then, as Buffy ran towards them, all the kids across the world, in unison, screamed.

A scream so high it drowned out the ambulance's siren. Made even Buffy have to cover her ears, to drown it out. The noise pierced through anything, everything. Like it was… deliberate! Like…!

Buffy rushed back to the ambulance, forced open one of the side-doors to the front cab. "Radio," she said. "I need a radio."

They all just looked at her like she was crazy.

"Miss, you should lie down," one of them said. "You collapsed a few minutes ago. You could be extremely ill."

Yeah, this was yet another sucky part of being sick.

"I _know_ I'm ill!" Buffy shouted. "I've been ill for a while! But I still need a radio! That noise the kids are making! It's… it's… something! I don't know! I just… I need a radio!"

Not sure what else to do, presented with a hysterical Slayer-powered Buffy, one of the medics handed her a walky-talky.

The other, Buffy guessed, was probably calling the psych ward.

Buffy fiddled with the controls, as she raced off towards the class that had been frozen while crossing the street. Towards the children that were screaming. She had to…

Buffy slowed.

Looked down at the walky-talky in her hands. Confused.

"Buffy," came Giles' voice, suddenly beside her. He put an arm on her shoulder. "Buffy, what…?"

"That's weird," said Buffy. "I had this… idea. I was so sure. And now it's… I mean…"

Then the children stopped screaming.

And Buffy realized, whatever she'd wanted the walky-talky for, it was too late now. If only she could retrieve that train of thought! Remember…

But it was gone.

"I hate these headaches!" Buffy said, smashing the walky-talky down against the pavement. It shattered beneath the impact, bits of it flying everywhere. "I can't think! Any idea I get, and one headache later, it's gone. My whole train of thought out the window!"

To make her point, she stomped on the pieces of the walky-talky.

Giles stopped her. "You're not well," he said. "You can't—"

"We," the children chanted.

Giles and Buffy looked up. Startled.

"We," the children said, again. "We. We. We."

"They're all doing it," one of the medics said, pointing at the school across the street. "Everyone. All the children are speaking in unison."

"We are," the children said. "We are. We are. We are."

"A message," Giles muttered. "Or a threat?"

"We are coming," the children said. "We are coming. We are coming. We are—"

Buffy looked around herself. Her head spun, but not from the illness. Not this time. It was like a bad Sunnydale nightmare, all over again. And she couldn't stop it. Was too sick to…

To…

No. No, focus! The world's in danger. That means no more sick-Buffy. Time for Slayer-Buffy.

"What's coming?" Buffy demanded, rushing up to the kids. "Who's coming? Who are you?"

"We are coming," the children continued. "We are coming."

"Oh, yeah?" said Buffy. She looked up at the sky, giving it her best intimidating glare. Spread her arms. "Well, you gotta get through me first! I'm the Slayer, and I'm gonna be your worst customs nightmare. So prepared to be TSA-ified into next year! Got that?!"

Then the kids stopped talking.

And resumed what they'd been doing before. Unfreezing all at once.

Giles pulled Buffy away, glancing back at the medics. "Yes, very intimidating, I'm sure," he said, "but if you don't want to be in a psychiatric ward for the next little while, I think it would be best if we ran."

The medics, sure enough, were all pretty convinced that Buffy had completely lost it.

They had out the straight-jacket, now.

Buffy spun on her heels. "Definitely run-time!" she agreed.

And sprinted.

* * *

"Footage from everywhere across the world, yeah," Jack told Buffy, by phone. "Even London." Then, with a suppressed smirk, "We saw _you_. Bet you were having fun. I'm sure the aliens are thinking twice about the invasion, now that you yelled at them."

Buffy sighed. "So I'm guessing that means Alison isn't there, yet?"

"No Alison so far," said Jack. Then, in a more serious tone, "Is everything okay with you?"

Buffy really wished people would stop asking her that.

This was why she hadn't wanted anyone to know she was sick in the first place!

"Fine," said Buffy. "Total fine. Okay? I'm just trying to figure out what's going on with the kids, what kind of monster we're facing, and what kind of sword I'm going to need to hack its brains out. Sound good?"

A pause from Jack.

Sounded like a discussion, off-phone.

"Got to go," he said. "We'll keep you up-to-date on this end." Another pause. "Oh and see if that… Giles of yours… can contact someone useful in Home Office. Because we could really use them right now."

Then he hung up.

Giles, from not far away, ended his own phone call. Looked up, a little startled. Then plastered a grin across his face.

"Did you get through to any Ministry or Home Office goons?" Buffy checked.

"Ministry…?" Giles asked, a little confused. Then blinked. And quickly tried to cover it up. "Oh! Yes! Of course, I was just… trying to call them! I was…!"

Buffy put her hands on her hips. Gave him her best Mom-style you-better-tell-me-the-truth look.

And Giles caved.

"I called Alison," he admitted. "She's on her way back."

Buffy was floored. "What?!" she shouted. "Why's she doing that? Torchwood needs her! This whole thing is blowing up in our faces, and Torchwood's only got three—"

"You need her more," Giles insisted.

They stood there, for a moment. Both glaring at one another. Neither wanting to back down.

Buffy was the one who gave in first.

"Okay," she said, waving her hands. "Okay! I give in." Then pointed at Giles. "But you are on your way to Home Office, mister. Find this Furby guy and make him tell you stuff!"

"Frobisher," Giles corrected. "Not Furby."

"Whatever," said Buffy. "Look, just… drop Jack's name. I'm sure they'll have heard of him. Then call me and tell me what's actually going on. Okay?"

Giles nodded.

And headed off.

* * *

Giles, of course, hadn't been immediately ushered into Mr. Frobisher's company. Rather, he'd been dismissed and brushed off, which he supposed was only natural, considering the mayhem at the moment.

But Buffy was relying on him.

And he wouldn't let her down.

It took him nearly an hour to eventually get to someone who might listen to him and help him, although she was being stubborn and uncooperative. And seemed very adamant that no one could speak to Frobisher.

"Listen to me, Madam," Giles snapped. "It's terribly important. I've been sent at the request of Jack Harkness, of Torchwood!"

That got her attention.

"You're an associate of his?" said the woman. "A confidante?"

To be honest, Giles was nothing of the sort. But he supposed a little lie couldn't hurt to get the wheels turning.

"Naturally," Giles told them.

The woman excused herself. Went into Frobisher's office. The two spoke, in earnest. Then the woman emerged, and opened the door.

"Mr... Giles, wasn't it?" the woman said. "I believe Mr. Frobisher does have a spare moment for you after all."

At 12:45 pm, Rupert Giles finally managed to meet John Frobisher.

By 1:00 pm, Rupert Giles had disappeared.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's note: There is one scene in this story that's shared with the one before it. That scene appears in this chapter. Except this time, focusing on Alison's activities.

This is also a chapter that will probably make most readers do a double take, in terms of Buffy. Yes, I know what you're going to say. I wrote it this way deliberately.

Enjoy!

* * *

"I'm sorry? Not necessary?" Alison said. "It's absolutely necessary!"

Alison had been shadowing Buffy since she'd gotten back to London — hadn't let up for a moment. Which would have been fine, normally, and Buffy did enjoy the company, except…

Well, except that it was pretty obvious why Alison was sticking near her this time.

And it had nothing to do with children.

"My baby brother is here alone," said Alison. "And I need you to look after him."

Buffy knew Alison had sent her parents away on purpose.

"And after your parents come back," Buffy sighed, "I'm guessing you want me to stick around here and just make sure everything's okay?"

"Well, you are the Slayer," Alison explained, calmly. "Which means that if any great big nasties show up, you can protect my family."

Translation?

The best thing you can do for the world right now, Buffy, is to stay here and be pitied by everyone, while Alison rushes off to Cardiff and Torchwood manages to save the day.

Without her.

"Alison," said Buffy, with her best knowing-Mom smile, "think this through. If anything happened to me — how would your parents be able to help? Half the alien experts in the world are trying to figure out what's wrong with me, and they've got no clue."

Alison wasn't about to back down.

"I haven't had an attack for a while, now," Buffy reminded Alison. "I'll be fine in Cardiff. Really, I—"

Alison stepped in closer, glaring right into Buffy's eyes. "You. Look. After. David," she demanded. "Now."

Her voice had an edge to it. One that made you want to shudder and just agree.

Which sucked, because Buffy had been the one to teach Alison how to do that voice in the first place! Really, how much karma could one universe throw at you?

But Buffy backed off.

Truth was… she wasn't completely sure Alison was wrong about this.

"Go to Torchwood," Buffy instructed. "They've got footage of what happened to the children. From across the world. I want to know anything you see out of the ordinary. Got that?"

Alison gave a mock-salute.

"Get a move-on, then," said Buffy, turning around. "I've got some serious baby-sitting to do."

It was 2:30 pm, when Alison Korjensky left for Cardiff.

And Buffy was standing around, in the Korjensky's kitchen, trying Giles' number over and over again, and getting nothing. Maybe he wasn't picking up because Seo had gone mega-paranoia on Buffy's phone and made it completely untraceable — even by caller ID.  
Yeah, that could be it. If Giles' phone kept ringing, and he didn't realize it was Buffy calling.

So… Buffy left a message.

"Hey, Giles, it's Buffy," she said. "Sorry you can't get my caller ID number. Guess who's still paranoid someone's gonna build another brainwashing psychic phone network?" Buffy ran a hand through her hair. "Anyways, gimme a call back. Let me know what you found. Hope the Jack thing worked — if not, I'll let you in on some of his secrets. Maybe we can embarrass these Home Office guys into letting us talk to them."

She'd only just hung up, when little David came barreling into the room and collided with her legs, sending her crashing down to the floor. Just barely managing to hold onto her phone.

"Sorry," David said. Then his eyes lit up, as he recognized her. "It's you! The grown-up who fights monsters!"

Point to David.

Pretty accurate description.

"I wanna do that when I grow up!" said David. "Either be a monster-fighter. Or a robot. That'd be brilliant!"

"A… robot," Buffy double-checked, stuffing her phone away.

David looked around, and then whispered, "I think I'm secretly becoming a robot. Mum and Dad said I sounded like one this morning."

Oh.

"So… you know about that?" Buffy asked. Maybe there was something to this whole babysitting thing after all. "What do you remember? Can you remember how you screamed?"

"Not really," said David. "But I wish I could." He jumped around, skipping across the floor in excitement. "I've tried it a few times, but I could never get it right. See?" He demonstrated, with a number of ear-piercing shrieks that made Buffy think child services was gonna rush in any moment and arrest her. "But I don't think that's right. I think it's a sound like… you know! In the stories Alison tells!"

"Stories?" Buffy asked.

"Yeah!" said David. "From when she went back in time!" He darted around, shouting, "Ya! Ya!" and doing karate chops and kicks and things. Then he grabbed up a pencil, pointed it at Buffy, and shouted, "Vroooo!"

Buffy blinked.

"And then all the monsters disappeared!" said David. "That's what Alison said."

It took Buffy a while to realize… the pencil was supposed to be a sonic screwdriver. And the person David was trying to act like… was the Doctor's third incarnation.

"Oh, when Alison was with the Doctor!" Buffy said, laughing. Shook her head. "Yeah, we could definitely use his help around here, now."

David vrooed his 'sonic screwdriver' at different items in the kitchen. Then grabbed them up and threw them through the air.

"Whoa, whoa, David!" Buffy said, doing a number of flip-jumps to catch all the flying fruit before it could impact. "Don't make a mess! Your parents will kill me."

"But that's what it does!" David insisted. He showed her the pencil, his face serious. "The screwdriver makes a noise. And that noise makes other things happen." His eyes lit up. "I wonder what I made happen! When I made my noise!"

Buffy felt her jaw drop.

As she realized… David was right.

"The sonic screwdriver affects the world around it," Buffy said. "Using sound. Sonic vibrations. What if this is the same thing? What if all that screaming was doing something? Activating something, or…?!"

Her mind was awhirl. Possibilities opening up to her, all at once. It was so obvious, suddenly. Why hadn't she seen it before?

She grabbed David by the hand, and flew out of the room. "We have to find some electronics and stuff," she said. "We're going to build our own sonic screwdriver." Grinned down at David. "What do you think about that?"

David squealed with excitement.

And so they got to work.

* * *

"I don't understand," said Frobisher, in his office. "You must be able to trace the call to Giles' phone. Even if it's from Torchwood, our technology is more advanced than theirs."

"I'm sorry, sir," said the technician. "But we can't trace it. We've tried everything."

Frobisher let this absorb. Worried.

"She… did leave a message," the technician offered.

Frobisher heard the message. And realized it was just confirming more and more of his fears. For a few long minutes, after the message ended, he sat, just trying to decide what to do.

"And… who is she?" Frobisher said.

"Buffy Summers," said the technician. Gave him her file. "Looks like she's been on our watch-list before. The name red-flagged."

Frobisher took this in.

Thinking about her message to Giles. Flipping through her records and becoming more and more concerned by the second.

Buffy Summers.

A friend of Jack Harkness. And one who knew his secrets.

Frobisher didn't make his decision easily.

But he did make it.

"Find her," he said. Got up from his desk. "Deal with her."

* * *

At 6:00 pm, Alison arrived at Torchwood.

And realized that no one else was there. Alison took out her mobile, made a few calls. Turned out, all the other Torchwood agents were off trying to work out what was going on. Following up on leads.

While Alison was here looking for those leads in the first place.

"Bet you lot have already done this," Alison muttered. As she sat down, and began opening up the data from the Torchwood computer, regarding the children-talking-in-unison thing. Flipped through it, played it over and over again. Always different children. Across the world. All saying the same thing.

"We are…" they said. "We are… we are… coming."

Right. Find something out of the ordinary, Alison. That was what Buffy had said. Out of the ordinary!

She watched the footage again.

And sighed.

"Yeah, because kids freezing in place and getting possessed like this is completely normal," Alison muttered, clicking on another footage clip. "Thanks, Buffy."

She flipped through a few more, then…

Wait a second.

On a whim, Alison pulled up the camera for just outside Buffy's flat. At 8:40 am. Rewound the CCTV footage just a bit, and watched.

There was Buffy. Coming out of her flat.

And then… she wavered. Clutching the railing for dear life, hand against her head, grimacing. Another one of her dizzy spells, it seemed…

Except that the moment Buffy's reactions had stopped…

Was the very moment the children had frozen.

"No," Alison breathed. But she was already pulling up the footage for just outside Home Office, at 10:30 am. Remembered that Giles had called her, around then, to let her know about Buffy. Alison rewound it. Kept going until she saw Buffy, standing outside.

Having another attack.

10:26 am.

Four minutes before the children had stopped.

Alison checked her phone. The call from Giles had been right afterwards. The attacks were affecting all the kids around the world… one bloke Gwen was checking out, who was in a mental institution…

And Buffy.

Always before the fact.

And never at the same time.

"She's connected to this, somehow," Alison realized. "But… how? And why her?"

"Good question," came a voice.

Alison jumped.

Spun around, found herself face-to-face with… well, some stranger wearing heels, a pair of stylish sunglasses perched on her head.

"Who are you?" Alison demanded, getting up. "How'd you get in here?"

The woman laughed. "Alison," she said, softly. "I was the one who taught you how to break into Torchwood in the first place."

Which when Alison realized… this was Seo.

A future incarnation of Seo.

The Future-Seo came up to her. "Listen, I don't have much time. But I have to tell you about the 456." Placed hands on the sides of Alison's head. "You trust me?"

What else could Alison say?

"Yes. Always."

There was a flash in Alison's mind. A burst of information. Future-Seo had given her everything she'd need to know. Who the 456 were, why the children were talking in unison, what was happening and how and how it was connected to the larger universe — and what would happen, if Alison didn't stop it.

As the connection was broken… Alison realized. She had to.

"The… the 456," Alison panted, stepping away. Hands clutching her head, as she struggled to absorb it all. "That's whose coming. They're going to take human kids and use them as… as… drugs!"

"And you're not supposed to know that, yet," came another voice.  
Alison spun around. Saw the other intruder. Listened as the two quibbled, learning that this was a future incarnation of Jenny, Seo's sister — except Seo and Jenny didn't seem too pleased to see one another, and were squabbling like mad, and…

Oh, who bloody cared?!

The entire world was at threat! And Alison knew it! Knew everything about these monsters, and all the others like them out in the galaxy! She knew whom the 456 supplied, how their drug trafficking was going to spark some sort of massive war in the future, one that Seo and her sister would both wind up fighting. She knew how many people would suffer and die, knew Ianto would suffer and die, just because…

"I have to tell Jack," Alison said, grabbing up her jacket and racing towards the Hub door. She knew where Jack was, too — at that hospital. Seo had given her everything she needed, and Alison could see it — see it so clearly. "I have to stop all this."

"No, Alison, wait!" Jenny cried.

But Alison was already out the door and on her way. Time to get to the hospital. Time to find Jack.

She stepped out of Torchwood Cardiff at 7:15 pm.

It would be the last time she ever set foot on the Plass.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note: I'd be interested to know your reactions to this chapter.

Rereading it, right now, I'll tell you that my reaction is, "GASP! OH MY GOD!"

And I _wrote_ the thing!

Enjoy.

* * *

The moment David's parents returned, Buffy got out of there. She grinned down at the device in her hand. Okay, so it wasn't exactly a sonic screwdriver, but it was still pretty cool! And go her, for being all with the Wikipedia on building this thing. Google never knew what hit it!

The gizmo flashed.

It was picking something up.

"Picking up on what's making the kids go nuts?" Buffy wondered, tracking it down.

Wow, this was cool! This must be how the Doctor always felt, when he was doing something smart and looking at a gadget. It was kind of a new sensation for Buffy — carrying obscure alien gadgets she'd cobbled together, herself, around, instead of large stashes of weapons.

Time to find the source of the flashing!

At 7:30 pm, Buffy Summers found the source of the flashing.

It was in someone's backyard. Under the ground. Easy enough. Buffy made sure no one was home, broke into the tool shed, and brought out a spade.

Then got digging.

The moment she began digging… her dizziness started, again. In earnest. She could feel it tingling all over her, like she could _feel_ whatever was buried down there! What was it? Some kind of Slayer weapon? Something Seo had made and left for her? A Bilis-Manger-style trap?

Actually, that last one would explain _a lot_.

But the kids were at stake, so Buffy kept going. Kept digging. Gritted her teeth, and dug through the tingling and the dizziness and the weirdness. Dug straight down, until…

It was 8:00 pm.

And Buffy had hit something.

She jumped down into the pit. Scrambled at the dirt, dusting off the item, picking it up. Climbed back out and then leapt over the fence and onto the main street. Raising it up to let the device catch the light of nearby street lamps.

She stared at it, not really sure what she was seeing.

It was a long, thin board-looking thing. Except it was full of flashing lights and weird mechanical-looking things on the outside. The machine was whirring and spinning and clicking, obviously doing something mechanical or computery or whatever inside.

Except it was beautiful.

Wonderful. Made her smile to touch it. It was as elegant and perfect as a well-crafted sword, the kind of thing that made Buffy proud to wield and happy to hold. Didn't matter that being near it made her head spin, or made her feel… weird.

Actually, no. Wait. Scratch that.

It probably did matter.

A lot.

"What _is_ this thing?" Buffy asked. "And what does it have to do with the kids?"

As if in reaction to her question, the lights on the device began to blink. All at once.

And Buffy felt herself keeling over, as another attack struck.

This one far worse than any of the others. Anything she'd ever felt before. It was like her brain was being lurched out of its skull, her body convulsing, and she tried to keep it together.

Then it all stopped.

The same exact moment Buffy's phone rang.

* * *

Alison tried to find the hospital whose image Future-Seo had implanted in her head. But, turned out, Future-Seo was still just as disorganized as her earlier counterpart. Alison's brain had all the information she needed, yes — but it was hopelessly muddled. And if the information she'd received might happen to contain directions to the right hospital, or even the hospital's name — well, Alison couldn't find it.

Which meant Alison wound up thoroughly lost.

And probably only found the correct spot through sheer dumb luck, in the end. But the inside of the hospital matched the view of it that had been implanted inside her head by Future-Seo.

Right.

Something was about to happen, here. Something important. Alison probably should know what, but the information was too muddled to sift through and work out, not in the amount of time she had left. So Alison decided to put it aside, for now.

No matter.

Alison would work out what was going on for herself, soon enough.

She crept through the hospital. Checking around every corridor. Ducking her head into every door. She might not know what was going on, exactly, but rest assured, it was something bad. Something Alison didn't want to blunder into.

It wasn't until she saw the people slicing Jack open in the mortuary that Alison realized just how bad it was.

She hid.

Watched, as a woman in a Kevlar vest put aside her scalpel, and implanted something inside Jack's gaping-open stomach. A woman… whose visage triggered a name in Alison's mind. An… Agent Johnson?

Except that hadn't come from Future-Seo.

No, that little tidbit had come from the blond version. The incarnation that Alison knew.

_"So… you'll be at Torchwood, then," blond-Seo had said. Just before she'd left to go time traveling with her mum, that first time, and met Drusilla and whatnot._

_"Starting pretty soon," Alison agreed. "As an intern."_

_Blond-Seo had frowned. Then thrust a photo under Alison's nose. "Agent Johnson," she'd said. "She's a killer, and she's watching you. Don't let her find you."_

_"I'm sorry?" Alison had asked. Taking the photo. "How do you know this?"_

_Blond-Seo had looked off, a sad expression on her face. "Doesn't matter," she said. "None of it really happened, anymore."_

And here, looking out, Alison could see that same person. The same Agent Johnson. The one that Seo had warned Alison about, specifically!

Right.

Whatever this Johnson woman was putting inside Jack… Alison was betting it was something bad.

Something Jack needed to know about, moment he woke up.

That'd be Alison's job, then.

"Everybody out!" Agent Johnson called, stepping back. "Bomb's in. Seal up the wound and put him back where he was."

Bomb?!

The soldiers moved, in busy yet coordinated action. Leaving, along with Jack. Heading off with him, somewhere.

Alison barely dared to breathe. She had to get out! Sneak past, follow them!

"He's gonna wonder where I've gone," said the Indian-looking assistant, beside Johnson. "He's gonna try and trace me. How are we gonna cover that?"

"You're not disappearing," said Johnson.

The assistant blinked. "But… I've got to! He's gonna…"

Then the assistant froze.

A horrified look spreading across his face, as he realized the truth.

He turned on his heels, and ran for his life.

Johnson didn't care. Just took out her gun. Impassively. Easily.

And killed him.

Alison gasped.

Johnson heard. Turned towards the noise.

But Alison was faster than that. Grabbed up a nearby tray and slammed it over Johnson's head. Then turned and sprinted away. Racing out of there, fast as she could.

Fumbling in her pocket for her mobile.

Had to warn someone! Had to let someone know!

She didn't have time to process. Didn't have time to think, as the soldiers opened fire, and Alison struggled to find some place she could hide. Some place they wouldn't find her!

She called the first person on her speed dial.

"Buffy!" Alison squeaked. "Help!"

* * *

Buffy answered the phone. To find Alison on the other end. Panicked.

"Buffy!" Alison squeaked. "Help! Bomb! Jack!"

"What?" said Buffy. "What are you—?"

Gun shots, in the background.

"Wait two secs!" Alison added. Then what sounded like even more frantic running.

"What bomb?" Buffy said. "Alison, what's going on? Where's this bomb? Who's going to—?"

"They put it inside him!" Alison gasped into the phone. "And then there's the 456 — I know what they are! She told me, Buffy! She showed me everything! They're coming back, and they'll keep coming back! Over and over again! There are so many of them, swarming the Mutter's Spiral, looking for…!"

Alison's voice stopped.

So did all the background noise.

"Alison?" Buffy said. Feeling her heart stop. "Alison. Please. Speak to me."

Buffy heard the sound of Alison's phone being dropped to the ground.

Then Alison shrieking, "No, wait!"

And the sound of a bullet impacting into bone.

Along with a sickening crunch, which Buffy knew only accompanied someone whose head had been blown into tiny pieces.

And the phone went dead.

"Alison," Buffy breathed. Looked down at the now unblinking device in her hands. A chill running through her. "Alison's… she's actually…"

* * *

"Did you trace the call?" Johnson asked base, through her earpiece.

She stepped over the body of the dead girl who'd witnessed everything. The one Johnson had just shot in the head.

One witness down.

Johnson heard typing on the other end of the line. Then, a little surprised, "Yeah. Yeah! Wow, that's… I just entered in random numbers, to test the machinery, and all that shielding around the trace unlocked. Like Summers' phone suddenly _wanted_ us to find it."

Lucky them.

"Looks like someone up there likes us," said Johnson. "You know what to do." She turned away, gesturing at the rest of her team to collect up the dead girl. "I have an immortal man to take care of."


	5. Chapter 5

Author's Note: Yes, everyone shed a tear over Alison.

We will miss you.

On the plus side, this story is really starting to get moving, now, in this chapter! This is where we really start to diverge from the Torchwood story. What happens here... could _only_ happen to Buffy.

Enjoy!

(Remember: Slayer Code = Slayers kill monsters, not humans, as Buffy mentions in the Buffy Show.)

* * *

Buffy didn't know how long it had been since she last moved.

The flat, board-like device in her hand seemed to roll every minute, every second, every hour together, and then smother her in them. It blinded her to the outside world. Blinded her to reality. It made her feel… like she was eternity and nothing, and…

And…

Alison was dead.

One single thought unspiralling across a thousand moments. And Buffy couldn't grasp it. Couldn't hold it in her hands and separate it from the thousand possibilities of the future pouring across the pavement, a thousand thoughts and dreams and empty hopes leaking like puddles beneath Buffy's feet.

Alison was dead.

The thought so weird. Fuzzy. Like it couldn't have happened.

Alison was dead.

Or _shouldn't_ have happened. So faint, and yet so strong.

Alison. Was. DEAD!

Buffy blinked. As she fell out of… whatever it was. Trance or something.

What was wrong with her? Like she'd never lost anyone before! She was the Slayer, this was commonplace! She was sad, yeah, but suck it up! Move!

She grabbed up her phone, hurled it into the darkness.

Turned, and ran. Far as she could, away from it. So no one could trace it, use it to find her and eliminate any witnesses.

Had to get to Cardiff! Had to warn…!

But too late.

Eternity hadn't passed. Not exactly. But however long had passed between Alison's death and Buffy's waking out of her trance — it had been long enough that someone had already managed to track her down.

A black van pulled up, swerving in front of her, cutting her off. Kevlar vested people poured out of it, abandoning the vehicle in waves and opening fire on Buffy.

Buffy skidded to a stop, jerking up the flat-board-looking device as a shield. Instinctively.

Felt the rumble of bullets bouncing off its surface.

As she spun around. Ran the other way.

Struggling to keep this alien gizmo between herself and whatever goons wanted her dead. Didn't think about why the alien whatever-she'd-dug-up couldn't be destroyed, didn't think about how she'd known it would protect her, or why it was suddenly so windy and noisy outside, or why she could feel vibrations in the air and flowing through the device… just run, RUN…!

Then someone, from just above her, shot a high-impulse energy beam at the empty black van.

And the van exploded.

Buffy stared, as she suddenly saw the source of the wind, noise, and vibrations, touching down in front of her. A helicopter she hadn't noticed, just a few feet away.

And Ria Maria Hiskaloph, President of the Slayer Institution, who stood just inside the chopper. Gun at her shoulder.

"Get in," Ria said.

Buffy didn't have to be told twice.

The armed men surrounded the helicopter. Guns leveled at Buffy, but Ria grabbed her close, so that to shoot Buffy, they'd have to shoot Ria, too.

They didn't.

"Hand over the terrorist," the goons demanded. "Or we open fire."

"And the moment you do," Ria warned, "you'll have five hundred angry super-human-strength girls ready to tear you down."

"We do not negotiate with terrorists!" another goon shouted. "Hand her over, or…"

"Or what?" Ria nodded at the burning van. "That was a warning shot," she explained. "I made sure no one was hurt." Charged up her gun. "But that can change very easily. And my gun is a lot more powerful than yours." She glanced over her shoulder at the helicopter pilot. "Todd. Get us out of here."

The helicopter lifted off.

And the gunshots ricocheted off its exterior. Bouncing off a magical force barrier, before they could strike their target.

"I can't keep this magic up!" came a voice from Buffy's right.

Buffy looked over and… Willow!

"How much longer before we're out of range of their shots?" Ria said.

"Thirty seconds," said the pilot.

Ria swore, leveling her gun out the door, at the soldiers. "Then I'll have to use this thing."

"You're… you're gonna kill them?!" Buffy cried. Trying to process this all through a swirling haze in her mind.

"What? Humans?" Ria gave her a pointed stare. "You should know the Slayer Code. You wrote it."

Then Willow's magical barrier failed.

And Ria fired at the streetlight above the army goons.

The streetlight sparked, then surged with the beam of the energy weapon, bursting with a flash of brightness that temporarily blinded the soldiers.

Just long enough to get the helicopter to safety.

"That won't stop them sending others," said Ria. "Better get the hell away from this country while we still can." Turned back to Buffy, who was sitting on the floor, staring blankly ahead of her. Ria frowned. "You all right?"

"Alison's dead," Buffy said, her voice faint. "They just… shot her. She's really dead."

Willow came over. Put an arm around Buffy.

"She must be in shock," Ria said.

"Who, Buffy?" said Willow. "Impossible!" Then noticed the flat, board-like device Buffy was still clutching in her hands. Pried it away from her. "What's this?"

Buffy blinked.

Then looked around herself. "What? Where am I? What's…?" Buffy caught sight of Ria. Then Willow.

Her jaw dropped open.

"What are you two doing here?" Buffy cried.

"The same thing as you, I think," Willow replied. Examining the flat board-like object more carefully. "Looking for this."

"That's it?" Ria asked, coming over. "Doesn't look like much."

"Yeah, but in terms of mystical energy?" Willow waved it at Ria. "This thing is a major wow!"

Buffy struggled to put the pieces together. But… she still felt… detached. Confused. Separated from… well… everything. Like nothing really made sense anymore and…

And…

And Alison was dead. How could she be dead? She shouldn't be dead!

"Wait, how could you be looking for… that… whatever-it-is?" Buffy said. Struggling to grasp how even this little bit of the story made sense.

Ria put down her gun, leaned against the wall. "It started this morning," she explained. "3 o'clock. My little Chris was… well, I guess babies always like keeping their parents up late at night."

"Babies?" Buffy's eyes widened. "You have a kid!"

Ria nodded. "Thing was, he was being normal. For a baby. You know. Screaming. Crying. Throwing up. And then…" She shrugged. "For some reason… he just stopped. Froze."

Like all the other kids in the world.

"Mark and I took him into the Institute," said Ria. "Ran some tests. And I started looking into the whole thing. Found out that it wasn't just Chris who'd frozen like that. All over the world, kids were standing still. Freezing."

"Lucky you had a newborn," the pilot called back. "Up all hours of the night. Or you'd never have noticed."

"Two hours later, it happened again," Ria continued. "Except that time, we had Willow around to help."

Willow waved.

"When the children stopped, Willow picked up on an energy trace," said Ria. "Massive, she said. But diffuse. Confusing." Ria shook her head. "Took us all day to track it down."

"You couldn't find it until I'd dug the thing out of the ground," Buffy realized. "And all of a sudden, the energy… was…" Her eyes lingered on it. Unable to move away. Time was so thin, here. Over and over again, they keep coming back. Alison had said that. Alison… who was dead. Shouldn't be dead.

Who…

Was…

Buffy's eyes went wide. "Bomb!" she realized. "Alison said something about a bomb! Something's about to blow up!"

"What?" said Willow. "You don't mean this thing we found is actually a bomb that's going to…?"

She stared down at the device, eyes wide.

Buffy grabbed it out of Willow's hands. "No, I don't," she snapped. "Alison saw the bomb in _Cardiff_. That's where it is! There's some kind of huge bomb in Cardiff, and it's got something to do with Jack, and it's about to… to…!"

Buffy cried out, as the pain seared through her. And the lights on the device activated, dancing across its display.

The others didn't notice the device.

Lunged, instead, for Buffy. Trying to help her. Trying to support her. Trying… trying…

Buffy reached out, through pain, and stroked the device with her fingertips. "So that's the answer..." Buffy whispered.

Then the lights flickered, even more.

And she passed out.

* * *

The children, in the world below the Slayer-copter, all went still. Their faces blank. As, in the Torchwood Hub, in Cardiff, Jack Harkness realized that he had been implanted with a bomb.

And his team had only minutes to escape.

"We," the children said. "We. We."

"It's active," Ianto said. "Two minutes!"

"Get out," Jack demanded, shoving Gwen out the door. "Now!"

Outside…

"We are," the children continued. "We are. We are."

"LOCKDOWN," the voice control for the Torchwood Hub reported.

"Ianto, leave, or you're going to get locked inside," Jack warned.

Ianto didn't move. As the metal-cog door rolled shut with a resounding thud. "I'll override the mechanism."

"For God's sakes," Jack screamed, grabbing him, "get out!"

"There'll be nothing left of you!" Ianto shouted back, struggling.

Outside…

"We are coming," the children said. "We are coming. We are coming."

Jack grabbed Ianto, shoving him on the invisible lift. Then kissed him, passionately, before sending the lift up. Watching… as Ianto faded away.

"I'll come back," Jack promised him. "I always do."

In the Slayer-copter, Ria was watching a portable monitor. Watching as the children recited the words, over and over again. "We are coming. We are coming. We are coming… back."

Willow was the only one who heard one solitary voice whisper, "And so am I."

In Cardiff… the Torchwood Hub exploded.


	6. Day 2

Author's Note: Had a really hard day today.

Here's the update.

Enjoy.

I'm going to go fume.

* * *

**Day 2.**

* * *

Buffy sat bolt upright. Looking around herself. "What's going on? Where…?"

She was still in the Slayer-copter.

Now looking at a much more sooty and disheveled Ria and Willow.

They were flying over the ocean. It was still dark outside — early hours of the morning — and Buffy could feel the air cold and nippy around her.

"We tried, Buffy," said Willow. "We were too late. The Hub was gone when we got there."

"We made sure Ianto lived through it, though," Ria offered. "Magic and stuff. He might be the only person who's ever survived being at the epicenter of a massive explosion."

"We went out, afterwards, searching for him and Gwen," Willow said. "But we lost them. And people kept shooting at us." She leveled dark eyes at Ria. "I said you should have brought that gun with you!"

"It's almost out of power, anyways," Ria muttered. "And unlike the snipers, I wasn't prepared to use it to kill." She turned back to a tablet, and began typing at it. Bringing up information. "If it's any help, reports are still coming in requesting the immediate location and arrest of Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones. Which means they're still alive and on the run."

"Then we have to go back!" Buffy insisted. "Find them! There's something going on, something getting covered up, and we have to…"

Buffy noticed the looks on Ria and Willow's faces.

And realized… she was missing something.

"What?" said Buffy. Her heart sinking. "What is it? What aren't you telling me?"

Ria and Willow exchanged a look. Both daring the other to start, first.

Willow sighed.

Turned to Buffy. "Giles went missing at 1:00, yesterday," she confessed. "Shortly afterwards, 2:30, you called him. Alison Korjensky called you at 8:00, just before she was shot in the head. Jack Harkness was implanted with a bomb and exploded — which you'd warned us would happen. Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones, the only witnesses to Jack's demise, are on the run." She gave Buffy a pointed stare. "Get where this is going?"

"There's a kill order out for three suspected terrorists," said Willow. "You're one of them."

"Wait, what?" Buffy cried. "AGAIN?!" She gritted her teeth. "What is it with the British government and trying to kill me?"

Ria gave Buffy a small smile. "Relax. You're an American citizen. We're taking you back to US soil."

"Well, the US army only ever tried to kill me _once_," Buffy muttered. "Guess that's an improvement."

"And you're a Slayer," Ria added. "Trust me. The moment we get you back to Cleveland, you'll be fine."

Willow hesitated.

And Buffy caught it.

"Fine," Buffy repeated. Felt her anger surging through her. "Fine?!" She jumped to her feet. "I haven't been fine for a while, now!" Pointed to her head. "I've got this illness! Remember? No one can find it, no one can figure out what it is, no one can cure it, and it's killing me! It's killing the people around me! If it hadn't been for these headaches and me zoning out, I'd have passed on Alison's message! Stopped this from happening! I'd… have…"

Buffy couldn't say it.

Because she should been there — in Cardiff with Alison. Able to save her life.

Should have been the reliable confidante who was able to relay Alison's message back to Jack and the others, instead of zoning out for who knew how long.

Should not have wound up sending off every competent, caring, compassionate alien-fighter so that they were stranded in the middle of nowhere, just because they were trying to find a cure for _her_!

Buffy slumped down onto the ground, again.

Head hung.

Buffy Summers: the Slayer who doomed the world.

"Illness," Willow repeated. She seemed nervous. Fidgety. Kept looking at Buffy weirdly. "Um… Buffy… how'd you find this?" She raised up the flat board-looking object.

Buffy turned.

Stared at it.

She'd hoped that thing had just been a nightmare.

"I just… I dunno," Buffy admitted, with a shrug. "I was looking after little David, and he mentioned sonics, and I went all Wikipedia and built something to find… whatever that is."

"A gadget?" Willow clarified. "_You_ built _a gadget_?!"

"Yeah." Buffy gritted her teeth, head in her hands. "I would have built it faster but… it's these headaches. It's like… I keep losing my train of thought. I'll work everything out, know it all perfectly, and then… next second, it's gone. I've forgotten. And I have to figure it out all over again."

This seemed to unnerve Willow even more. She clutched the board-thing a little tighter.

Buffy noticed that, too. Stared at that board-thing so hard, trying to recall… last night. What she'd known… about that thing… what she'd worked out about it the last time she'd seen it…

"I think we should keep you away from this thing, Buffy," said Willow.

And then Buffy remembered! What she'd figured out!

"No, Will, listen," Buffy put in, quickly. "I know what's going on. The Crystallizer's always lighting up and whirring just before stuff happens. Like it's _making_ stuff happen. It lit up just before Alison called me. It lit up just before Torchwood exploded. And the children! Will — the Crystallizer's connected to this. Connected to this whole thing!"

"Crystallizer?" Willow asked.

"Yeah, the… you know," said Buffy, gesturing at it, "…board-looking thing. The Crystallizer."

"But how did you know…?" Willow started.

"It's making this invasion happen?" Ria cut in, to confirm. "Making the children all talk at once?"

"No, of course not, it's more complicated than that!" Buffy shouted. "It's—"

Then the Crystallizer began blinking and whirring and clicking, again.

And Buffy doubled up. Convulsing. Reacting. Head in her hands, teeth gritted. Unable to focus, as the world swam around her, the headaches growing worse and worse, like they were tearing her apart.

Ria caught her up, but Willow just kept staring at the Crystallizer.

"It's making her sick," Willow realized. Tapped it with her hand. "It's indestructible. Alien. Buried beneath London. It's got something to do with the children. And whenever it operates… it makes Buffy sick."

The blinking stopped.

And Buffy seemed fine.

* * *

The moment the blinking stopped, the Pentagon caught sight of the Slayer-copter, coming in.

General Pierce, on the phone, said, "Understood, sir," and hung up. Then turned to the others, nearby.

"I want two fighter planes on that thing, pronto!" Pierce commanded. "The Brits say this is an act of terrorism, and that" — pointing at the screen — "is the person behind it."

* * *

"Ria," said the pilot. "We've got a problem."

The sounds of sophisticated aircraft whooshed by, deafeningly, as two US fighter planes circled the Slayer-copter. The speaker on the copter crackled, and a voice came through:

"Blue Eagle to Slayer Copter 1," said the voice. "You are suspected of harboring dangerous terrorist elements. Under the US Patriot Act, you must land immediately and surrender yourself to US custody, pending trial and investigation once the state of emergency has passed."

"I think we've all just earned ourselves a one-way ticket to Guantanamo Bay," the pilot said.

Ria grimaced. "For Buffy? Hardly. They'll ship her back to London. And we all know what'll happen to her _there_."

"It's never a good sign," Willow put in, "when you realize water-boarding is the _good_ option."

Ria was on her feet and beside Willow in a second. Kneeling down to put her hands on Willow's shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "Will," she said, very quietly. "Get out of here. I know you can."

Willow froze.

Staring.

"No!" Willow cried. "No, I'm not leaving you and Buffy and Todd to be Guantanamoed while I get free! I… just give me a minute! To get up my magical energy reserves. I can transport us _all_ away! I—"

"And by then it'll be too late," said Ria. She took Willow's spare hand, and put it around the Crystallizer. "This thing," she said, in a very low voice, "it's part of what's happening. We have to get it back to the Institute."

Willow looked over at Buffy. Who had zoned out, now. Was just looking straight ahead, confused, detached from reality once more.

Then Willow looked back at Ria.

Swallowed.

And nodded.

Willow stepped away. Summoning her magical powers. Gathering up her strength, so she could make the journey she needed.

"And Will?" Ria added. With a smile. "Enact Operation 001delta53. You'll find the plans in my office."

It was the last thing Willow heard before she disappeared from the helicopter. Shot out through the air, soaring towards Cleveland. Repeating the code in her head, over and over again, just to make sure she got it right.

001delta53.

001delta53.

With another surge of magical energy… Willow was back. In Cleveland. In the Institute. Surrounded by Slayers. Everyone turning to her the moment she arrived, expecting something.

Or… someone.

Ria.

"Operation 001delta53," Willow reported, trying to steady herself. "Ria and Buffy are in trouble."


	7. Chapter 7

Author's Note: Yeah, I had to research interrogation techniques to write this stuff. Hope I got it pretty good. Lots of hotel stuff still to do!

Enjoy!

* * *

It was James T. Gardell's job to ask questions.

That's what he kept telling himself, as he approached the office of his superior. This was his job. To protect his country by asking questions. Leave the army-people to do the following-orders and the obeying-commands! If Gardell thought something was being done wrong, he _should_ speak out against it!

He'd still selected a time when the Director's secretary was out for lunch, though. And when there were a minimal number of other people around to hear him — in case he failed.

Gardell adjusted his tie. Then knocked on the door.

"Enter."

He came in, and the Director looked up at him. He seemed vaguely annoyed, although perhaps that was only because he seemed extremely busy.

"Oh, good," the Director said. Pulled out a form, began jotting down notes on it. "Shipped Summers over the Atlantic? Now the real trouble begins. Ria Hiskaloph — I want to know about her. Concrete information. Her organization has too many government ties, Gardell, that's the problem. We've been watching them for years, but the Pentagon won't let us send an agent undercover. And all our efforts to circumvent them come to nothing."

"Actually, about Summers," Gardell cut in. "I thought we should keep her here, Director, sir."

The Director paused in his work. Looked up at Gardell with a withering expression. "She's a terrorist. The United States does not act as a safe-haven for foreign terrorists. If she's committed a crime in Britain, she's going back to Britain."

"I know that, sir," said Gardell. "And we will send her back. But… this terrorist activity. Involving the children. It's affecting _our children_, too. And the Brits are keeping their mouths shut about what's causing it."

The Director took this in. Thoughtfully.

"We've got a ticking-time-bomb situation, here," said Gardell, stepping forwards. "This Torchwood terrorist group Summers is involved with — they're doing something to children. _American_ children. If we give her up, now…"

"…we might only find out what's going on when it's too late to stop it," the Director realized. He processed it, carefully. "The Brits aren't gonna like this."

"Summers has committed an act of terror against the American people, not just the British," Gardell argued. "We have just as much right to interrogate her here, as an American terrorist, as they do over there, as a British one. And you can tell MI-5 that we'll pass on any secrets we discover."

The Director sighed. Then, "You have 24 hours. Get something out of her that we can use. If we can't, it's up to the Brits."

"Understood, sir."

And Gardell knew he had less time even than that. Because, in a situation like this one, anything could happen in the next 24 hours.

Anything at all.

* * *

Buffy didn't know what day it was.

Didn't know what time it was.

Just knew that the annoying guy in the suit who called himself Gardell kept coming in and asking her questions, always in that same calm, completely-in-control voice.

At least _he _was calm.

"What do you mean, I'm a terrorist?!" Buffy shouted. "Do you know how many times I've saved the world?"

Gardell was unfazed by her outburst. Calm and collected, no matter what she did. "Your associates have already confessed," Gardell said. "They say you're the mastermind behind the whole scheme. We're just trying to get your side of the story, before we convict you."

"What 'whole scheme'?" Buffy said. "What the hell are you talking about?" She leaned forwards. "Look, something's going on out there! It's a conspiracy! I'm getting framed."

"How so?" Gardell asked.

Which was even worse, because Buffy had no idea.

Was having trouble remembering what had happened yesterday… or even what had happened across her entire life, leading up to now. It kept spinning in and out of her mind, all weird and wobbly and confusing…

"I'm not a terrorist!" Buffy went back to shouting.

At least she knew she was on solid ground with that one.

"I'm perfectly prepared to believe you," said Gardell, in that totally-in-control way he had, looking at her like he was picking apart her every gesture and analyzing it in detail. "Why don't you tell me the whole story. From the beginning?"

She tried her best.

Right up until the moment the headaches struck, again. Ripping through her brain.

And Buffy collapsed.

* * *

"What happened?" Gardell asked the doctor exiting the examination room.

"We… don't know," the doctor replied. He checked his clipboard. "She claimed it was some kind of tumor. But we looked through the medical file you gave us, and found no evidence of that."

"Is she on narcotics?" Gardell asked. "Drugs of any kind? Anything that could affect her—?"

The doctor shook his head. "She's clean. It could be a long-term illness. Or some other disease. We'll know more when her test results come back."

With only 24 hours, though, Gardell didn't have time to wait.

And his deadline just kept getting stepped up. While Summers was being treated for whatever had made her collapse, Gardell had received word: the children had spoken, again. With a new message.

"We are coming tomorrow," they had announced.

When Summers was released by the doctors, Gardell gave her an hour to sleep off the effects of whatever had happened.

Then he got back to the interrogation.

Except… for some reason… when he resumed it… everything had suddenly changed.

* * *

"Let's go over this again, Ms. Summers," said Gardell, across the table from her. "You're a part of this… 'Torchwood'. Correct?"

Summers was now huddled over in her chair. Back arched, head drooped. Her eyes lingering on the floor. Hair draped over her face, so he couldn't even see her eyes.

Completely different stance to how she'd been, before.

"I don't know," Summers answered.

"You don't know?" said Gardell. "Last time, you told us…" he checked his notes, and quoted, "'I'm not a terrorist; they're trying to kill me because I work for Torchwood.'"

Summers frowned. "I think… that's right." Gritted her teeth. "My memories keep… fading in and out. Like something I can't grab."

Gardell examined Summers, carefully. Taking in her body-language and appearance. The signals she wasn't speaking out loud. The way she seemed to be sealing herself off from him.

She was acting detached and confused.

But… not the way you'd expect someone who'd been drugged to act.

"Yes," Summers decided, at last. "Yes, I… work for Torchwood. Or… I'm almost completely positive I work for Torchwood. I think. Part-time."

Gardell nodded.

"But it's not a terrorist group," Summers continued. "We save the world."

"I see," said Gardell. He'd gotten this line of reasoning from many terrorists before. People who'd decided the best way to save the world was to plant a bomb that would murder thousands. "You 'save the world'. And how do you do that, exactly?"

Summers didn't answer. Just gave a distant, distracted laugh. "Apocalypse-preventer number one. Slayer extraordinaire. That's me. I save stuff. Except Alison. She's dead. She's dead, and I couldn't save her."

Summers had dropped that term a number of times, too. 'Slayer'. Which associated her with Hiskaloph's group, who called themselves 'Slayers', as well.

"You're right," said Gardell. Putting on his best tough-face. "Alison Korjensky, age 19, terrorist and radical, recruited to your team at _your_ request. Now dead. Because of you." His eyes bore into Summers. "Your headquarters is in ruins. Your associates have been caught and detained by the British government, and your plan's backfired."

This wasn't strictly true, but it certainly got a reaction out of her.

Summers shot up her head. Regarding him, distantly.

"They're… they've been…?" Summers shook her head. "I don't understand. I thought… Gwen and Ianto were…" She frowned. "What… what day is it?"

"I think you know," Gardell replied.

Best to keep her on her toes.

It wasn't a lie, but… well, if she thought whatever Torchwood was planning had already happened, yesterday, Gardell knew he could get more out of her. She'd talk about it as if he knew the plan, itself, and all of it was established fact.

"You've failed, Summers," Gardell told her. "Failed completely. Your plan was a joke. A laughing stock. Your friends have all turned you in, and you've been set up as the fall guy. So if you want to save any face at all, I think you'd better come clean."

Summers didn't answer.

"What was your role in this?" Gardell demanded, in a hard voice. "What part did you play in Torchwood's plan with the children?"

He was expecting her to get defensive. To jump up and shout at him, the way she'd done before. To become flustered and screaming, shouting about conspiracies and set ups.

But this time, she was… distant. Confused.

And the body-language seemed genuine. Not drugged or sluggish, just… wrong, somehow. It was utterly bizarre.

What was this?

An act?

"My children?" Summers asked. "I… don't think I have any. Or…" She put a hand up to her head. Confused. "No, I do, but they're… I mean, I thought they were off in school in California, or…"

She trailed off.

"Unison," Summers said, at last. "All the children were speaking in unison. I remember that."

"Yes," Gardell said. "Telling the world that you and your group were coming. A scare tactic. It didn't work. You're done, Summers. Torchwood's gone. It's all over."

"I remember that," Summers said, not even seeming to hear his words. "When the children all stopped. I called up Michael, and he'd seen it, too, on his way to work, when…" She stopped. Frowned. Then shook her head. "Sorry, that… I don't know why I said that. Michael… a boyfriend of mine. He died a long time ago."

This was getting him nowhere.

Here he was, with Summers — the terrorist on every catch-list in the world — and what was he getting? One interrogation filled with accounts of demons and witchcraft and conspiracies. Followed by a complete character change, as she began to turn spacey and confused, unable to even give a coherent answer!

"Like Alison," said Summers. "She died. I let her die."

Could be a long-term illness. Gardell doubted it. Summers' convulsions had been timed a little too precisely for his liking. It couldn't be a coincidence.

But the character change seemed real enough.

Shock, perhaps. Maybe the previous interrogation had reminded her about this Alison Korjensky of hers. The two had clearly been close. The memory of losing Alison seemed to have tipped Summers over the edge.

Or some perception-altering substance. Something his team hadn't managed to trace, yet. Something unlike any drug he'd seen, before.

Gardell got up from the table.

No point in going on with the interrogation, while Summers was still in the midst of… whatever-this-was. Whatever she knew, she wasn't in any state to tell it, at the moment.

A look of intense concentration washed across Summers' face. "Children of Earth," she muttered. "He said that. I'd forgotten. Back in Sunnydale — he said two-thirds of Earth's children would be lost, and I wouldn't be able to stop it."

The information came so abruptly out of nowhere, Gardell almost let his mask slip.

But checked himself, just in time.

Leaned against the table, making it all seem natural. As if he'd stood up for dramatic effect. Making sure it was clear he was in control, and knew everything.

"Who said?" Gardell asked.

"A time traveler," said Summers. A smile lit up her face. "He was so sweet. Sometimes, when I look up at the sky, I think about him and…" The smile fell. "And…" Her lips twitched down into a frown. "And nothing. I don't know. It's dark, so dark, and I can't get out. I can't… I just can't…" Her breathing grew frantic. "You won't let me out? Please don't let me out. Don't send me back!"

Gardell kept his exterior steady.

But inside, something hopeful fell back to disappointment.

There was certainly no getting anything out of her during this session.

"We'll finish this later, Summers," Gardell said. Heading out to the door. "But I can't bargain a more lenient sentence unless you tell me the truth. Gwen Cooper, Ianto Jones, and Jack Harkness have all pointed the finger at you. I'm the only friend you have left." He looked back over his shoulder. "Remember that."

Then he left.


	8. Chapter 8

"If you ask me, the interrogation looks like a waste of time," said Samuel Titcher, mug of coffee in hand. He leaned back against the desk, studying the surveillance tape of Summers' interrogation. "Just look at her! She's clearly deranged."

"She knows something she's not telling us," said Gardell. "I'm sure. I can feel it!"

He paced the office, irritated. Letting the recording of the interrogation sink into his psyche. Percolate there.

"Yeah, well, you better get something out of her soon," said Samuel. Taking a sip of coffee. "Because Gwen Cooper and Ianto Jones are still on the loose. The Brits say Harkness isn't talking. And tomorrow's when it all goes down."

Gardell grimaced. "Don't remind me."

"Yep," Samuel said. Tapping his fingers against the mug. "Kids all speaking at once. Weirdest thing ever." He reflected. "It happened at seven o'clock, this time — just when the kids were all getting up for school. Another scare tactic, you think?"

"Seven here; noon in London," said Gardell. "If you look at the times when this is happening, the Torchwood group's clearly targeting the Brits. It's only since Summers was moved to the States that the children have begun speaking at convenient times for us, too."

On the recording of the interrogation, Summers was shouting about this all being some set-up, and a massive conspiracy. And before Gardell had gotten out his next question, she'd already begun to scream that she could escape anything, and he wouldn't be able to keep her there. Gardell, on the recording, calm and composed, went on with his questioning. Asked her about a point that didn't make sense with her story. Summers froze. Caught out. Then had begun shouting, "I want a lawyer! I know my rights; I've watched CSI!"

Which was right when she convulsed, clutching her head.

And collapsed.

Gardell paused the surveillance tape.

Studying it carefully.

"How do you know she has anything to do with this in the first place?" said Samuel. "Maybe the Brits got it wrong."

Gardell waved the remote at the time stamp, in the corner of the image on the surveillance screen. "6:57 am. Three minutes before the children started talking in unison. _That _was when Summers had her fit."

Samuel turned. His eyebrows raised, as he regarded it. "All right. You've got a point."

"She's involved with this, somehow," Gardell said. He pulled out her file, flipping through it. "Looking back through ambulance reports, 999 calls… it's clear. She collapses just before the children speak in unison. Every single time." He snapped the file shut. "That can't be a coincidence."

"So what are you thinking?" said Samuel. "Is she Torchwood's fall-guy, or the instigator of their plot?"

Gardell shrugged. "Could go either way," he admitted. "But I'm leaning towards fall-guy. She's obviously confused. She seems to think she's been framed. If Torchwood's drugged her, somehow… maybe given her an early version of whatever toxin is infecting our kids…"

"That could explain the change in her behavior, after she collapsed," Samuel agreed. "Reasonable enough explanation."

Gardell frowned. Pacing, yet again. "Except if she _were_ the fall-guy, why won't she tell us anything? She knows she's being set up! She hinted that she knew Torchwood's plan. Two-thirds of Earth's children, she said."

Samuel whistled, impressed.

"But she's stubborn," said Gardell. "She's sure these Torchwood guys are a group committed to saving the world. Even if she understands they're framing her, she still won't betray them. No matter what."

He fiddled with the remote, skipped ahead to the next interrogation.

Watching the recording of himself and the spaced-out Summers.

Samuel regarded the screen, thoughtfully. Watching. "If she is connected with the children," he pointed out, "then why's she not acting like them? No speaking in unison, no stopping, just… convulsions." His forehead creased, as he watched her. "And her body language, afterwards — it's like she's become a completely different person."

"I don't know," said Gardell. "I've got our medical team running tests to find out anything that could justify this, but… so far, they've come up empty."

"Just like the test results for the kids," Samuel agreed.

Gardell's lips formed a thin line. As he continued to pace. Continued to think this all through in his head.

"You think Hiskaloph knows anything?" Samuel asked.

Gardell sighed. "I doubt it," he admitted. "I've seen the interrogation tapes of her, but… she seems more interested in making us _believe_ she knows something than in proving she does. Summers has connections with Hiskaloph's Slayer Institute. I think this is Hiskaloph trying to protect her friend."

Samuel swirled the coffee around in his mug. "Interesting theory."

Gardell paused. Turned to Samuel. "You think otherwise?"

"Me and a lot of other people," Samuel agreed. "Yeah." He sipped his coffee, again. "That Hiskaloph's a sly one. She seems clean on the surface, but if you look at her connections… they run too deep. Her Slayer Institute has backers all over Washington."

Gardell thought this through.

"We've been keeping tabs on that Slayer Institute place for a while," said Samuel. "It seems to be some kind of heavily-armed militia organization. Full of radicalist doomsayers who believe there are demons and devils in every back alley." He gave a small laugh. "And their mission statement! 'To save the world from invading aliens, evil demons, and the forces of darkness'!"

"Sounds like a cult," said Gardell.

"Yeah — but no one can touch it," said Samuel. Put down his coffee on the desk behind him. "We can't raid the place. Can't even get someone undercover! Like I said — whatever Hiskaloph's running, over there in Cleveland — the politicians in Washington are up to their necks in it."

Gardell thought about this a long moment.

Then grabbed up Hiskaloph's file, thumbing through it, as he made his way out of the office. "Wait a few minutes, then work on Summers, again. Try a little good-cop. Get her on our side."

His eyes were fixed on the file in front of him. As he read through the information.

Time for some words, in person, with the mysterious Ria Hiskaloph.

* * *

Hiskaloph sat on her chair, hands folded in front of her. Looking completely calm, unshaken, unconcerned. Just as she'd been the moment Gardell had arrived.

"…will be better if you told us the truth," Gardell explained to her. "We've been keeping tabs on your 'Slayer' group for some time. Evidence shows that Summers, herself, ran the group before surrendering her position to you."

Hiskaloph didn't seem bothered by this. Acted as if she were perfectly content to sit there all day. "Is that so?"

"We know there's a connection between you and Summers," said Gardell. "So. Are you protecting her, Ms. Hiskaloph?"

Hiskaloph raised her eyebrows. "You tell me."

Gardell leaned forwards. Making it look as if he, at great personal risk, were letting out a secret he really shouldn't. "Look, I'm going to be straight with you," Gardell said. "Cooper, Jones, and Harkness have already confessed. They've blamed Summers for everything. The only way you can protect her is to tell us what you know. Tell us what she's actually done."

Hiskaloph leaned forwards, also conspiratorially. Considering. "You want me to tell you something?" She lowered her voice to a whisper. "Here's something. Have you ever watched TV news pundits?"

Gardell sat back in his chair. He was beginning to get frustrated.

The more he talked to Hiskaloph, the more certain he was that she knew nothing about what was happening at Torchwood, or what was happening to the kids.

No.

She just wanted them to _think_ that she did. To divert attention from Summers.

"Especially those really loud-mouthed pundits," Hiskaloph continued, in her normal voice. "You know? The ones with their own shows? _Talk Fast_ with Peter Carverson, or _Strike Him Out_ with Leonard Potter." She shrugged. "Usually, I just ignore them." She glanced up to meet his eyes. "I'm guessing you do the same."

"I don't think you understand how serious this is, Ms. Hiskaloph," Gardell tried again. "You were caught trying to smuggle an international terrorist onto US soil. She's already been denounced by her associates. The only way either you or her have a chance is if you—"

"Denounced, huh?" said Hiskaloph. "By Gwen, Ianto, and Jack?" She gave a small laugh. "Are you the one making that up, or did the lie start with the British government and work its way over here?"

Gardell folded his hands on the table. His face blank, calm and composed.

"How'd your British counterparts take the news that you were interrogating Buffy, by the way?" Hiskaloph asked. She folded her arms, looking a little smug. "I bet they weren't too happy about it."

There was a little something in her eyes, as she said it.

A spark, like she was leading him on. Purposely.

"Ms. Hiskaloph," Gardell said, with a little sigh, "it's clear to me that you think your friend is innocent. What you don't seem to understand is… I believe you're right."

Hiskaloph still didn't betray anything.

But he could see… he'd gained her interest.

"You don't have to imprison yourself in order to protect her," Gardell coaxed. "If you know something — anything — about this, I can help you."

Hiskaloph reflected.

For a few moments, Gardell thought she'd actually spill the beans.

Then Hiskaloph's grin widened, and she leaned back in her chair. "Mitch Philhorn," she said. "Now there's a great pundit. I mean, you've got no idea how powerful someone like that is. He says something, and the nation laps it up."

Looked like Gardell would have to reveal some information, to make his position stronger. Convince her to talk.

"I've seen Summers under the influence of perception-altering drugs," said Gardell. "You've as much as admitted that you think this is a set-up. That she's being framed. It's probable she's been given something by the people at Torchwood, to make her seem guilty. So… what are the drugs? What's making her act this way?"

Hiskaloph didn't answer.

But Gardell could tell, from the way she was sitting, the way her face bent, the way she was a little too easy about all this… she wanted to let him help her.

He was close.

"Your organization's mission statement is to save the world," Gardell said. Pushing just a little bit more. "You don't like what's happening to the children any more than we do. You're a mother. You want to see it stopped. If you just told us the truth—"

"Then you'd never believe it," Hiskaloph interrupted. Her ease gone, in a second, a seriousness washing across her. "I've seen this kind of thing happen over and over again. If I tell you what's really happening — that's just words. Something for someone else to deny." She leaned forwards. "How do you think I knew you were lying about Gwen, Ianto, and Jack's denouncements? Tell me that."

"Just because they haven't denounced her, _yet_, doesn't mean they won't in the near future," Gardell pointed out. "I've seen what's happening to Summers. She's clearly been set up to take the fall for whatever Torchwood's planning."

Hiskaloph gave a small, unamused laugh. "Oh, you have no idea."

"I don't?" Gardell asked her. Twisting her question back on her.

"And that's why I can't tell you," Hiskaloph explained. "Because this is wrong — so phenomenally, monumentally wrong that I don't even know where to begin — and you can't help me, Mr. Gardell. Because you just wouldn't understand."

Now he was getting somewhere.

"What wouldn't I understand?" Gardell said.

Hiskaloph shook her head, annoyed. "I've been interrogated by the government before, you know," she said. "By this point, someone should have stepped in. Some top-secret government agency that even the FBI doesn't know about, a group that actually _understands _what Buffy and I do." Her lips formed a thin frown. "And that hasn't happened, yet. Which is worrying. It might mean this cover-up extends further than I thought." Her eyes flashed. "I don't know if I can trust you, Gardell."

Gardell nodded, slowly.

"You think this is a government conspiracy," he said. He pretended to think about it. "I see."

Hiskaloph sat back. Trying to read him.

But he gave nothing away. He'd been trained too well for that.

Gardell raised up a little device, and flipped it at the cameras. The recording lights went off, as they appeared — to all external eyes — to shut down. _Appeared _to, anyways. Then he turned back to Hiskaloph.

"Off the record," Gardell said. "Whatever's going on, you can tell me. I'll believe you."

Hiskaloph considered.

For a long, long time.

The clock ticking in the background, as the seconds slowly drifted by.

"You could be in on it, too," Hiskaloph said, at last. She gestured at him. "What you're doing now… it could be a trick. You fishing around to find out what I know, see if I'm a threat. Then, after I tell you, you'll kill me and Buffy and make sure your plan succeeds, anyways." Her eyes flashed with challenge. "How can you guarantee you're on my side?"

Gardell furrowed his brow. Putting on a concerned-and-slightly-alarmed act. "You think someone in the government is actually trying to kill you?"

He didn't have to act very hard, though, to make the gesture seem genuine.

Out to _kill_ her?!

And he could tell by the body-language that she meant it. She really thought there was a conspiracy. That she and Summers were in mortal danger.

So. Was this unwarranted paranoia? Or… did they know something he didn't?

"I can't tell you anything unless I know it's safe," Hiskaloph continued. "Dawn would kill me if I didn't…"

Which was when the door opened, and one of Gardell's coworkers — a tall, thin man, named Reynolds — stepped inside. Not saying anything, but giving Gardell a look that said, "Get out here, now."

Hiskaloph stopped.

A smile spreading across her face.

"There we go," Hiskaloph said, her body language now a lot more easygoing. "I was wondering how long I had to stall you before this happened."

Gardell had to force down his irritation, as he got up from the table.

This wasn't standard protocol.

And now that he'd been interrupted… he'd never get anywhere with Hiskaloph. She'd never tell him anything, again.

"A phone call for Mr. Gardell?" Hiskaloph asked Reynolds. She leaned her chair back on two legs. "Figured. Tell Frobisher to give my love to Rupert Giles."

"We'll resume this another time," Gardell told Hiskaloph.

Hiskaloph shrugged.

"I dunno," Hiskaloph said, as Gardell left. "Personally, I think you'd get more information watching Mitch Philhorn."


	9. Chapter 9

Author's Note: And you thought Ria's mention of TV pundits was just playing for time...

* * *

Gardell hadn't taken the government conspiracy accusations seriously.

Until the moment he learned why he'd been pulled out of the interrogation.

"You're kidding," Gardell said. "_Stop_ the interrogations?!"

Samuel shrugged. "Hey. Don't shoot the messengers."

"But why?! It doesn't make sense!" Gardell snapped. "Whatever Torchwood's planning with these children, whatever's going on, it'll happen tomorrow! This is a ticking time bomb situation, and—"

"They want the interrogation on British soil," Reynolds informed him. "The Bureau's been put in touch with John Frobisher, Permanent Secretary to the Home Office. He's in charge of the investigation regarding the children, and he made it very clear that he wanted our interrogations stopped as soon as possible."

Frobisher.

Hiskaloph had known that name.

"Why?" Gardell demanded. "Did he give a reason?"

"Frobisher believes Summers doesn't know anything that could be useful to us."

Gardell felt himself fuming. "And if that's the case," he snapped, "then why the hell does Frobisher want her on British soil so much in the first place?!"

Samuel shrugged. "It's probably political," he offered. "One of those things where having Summers in their custody would make them look better in the eyes of the media. Summers has been accused of terrorism on British soil before, you know. Although they won't let us see the records explaining what _that_ was all about."

"Media," Gardell repeated.

Hiskaloph had mentioned something about that, too.

Gardell turned to Reynolds. "Check to see if Summers' medical tests have revealed anything. Particularly the administration of some kind of toxin or narcotics, without her knowledge. Someone doesn't want her to talk, and I want to know why."

Reynolds nodded.

And headed out the door.

Gardell turned to Samuel. "You're on TV duty," he said, tossing the remote over. "Hiskaloph kept mentioning… Mitch Philhorn. Find out what that's about."

Samuel caught the remote. "The TV pundit? Why?"

"Because Hiskaloph's too scared to talk," Gardell replied. "But she keeps dropping hints. I think she's waiting to see how I react to certain bits of information. And she'll decide whether or not she can trust me based on that."

"If _you_ can trust _her_," Samuel replied.

"Hiskaloph's the weak link," said Gardell. "I'm sure of it. She's the one person here with no hidden agendas. Whatever Torchwood's up to, whatever Frobisher's pulling, whatever Summers herself is going through — Hiskaloph's simple. She's here to protect Summers. That's it."

"Simple?" Samuel repeated.

"I'm certain Hiskaloph knows something that'll make Summers talk," Gardell said. "I just have to convince her that I'm on her side. Show I'm trying to help her. If I get through to Hiskaloph, I can get through to Summers."

As soon as Summers recovered from whatever she was slipped this morning.

Samuel shook his head. "I'm warning you, Hiskaloph's not as simple as people think," he said. "She's sly. Tricky. I wouldn't put too much trust in anything she says."

"We'll find out," said Gardell, picking up the phone. "I'm going to speak to Frobisher."

Samuel shrugged.

Then turned on the TV.

As Gardell instructed his secretary to connect him to Mr. Frobisher. And stood, waiting, as the phone rang.

He didn't have to wait long.

Before his call was answered.

"Yes, this is James Gardell, FBI," Gardell said into the phone. "I need to speak to John Frobisher immediately. It's concerning our suspected terrorist, Buffy Summers."

Samuel flipped through channels on the TV, and Gardell turned around, pressing his free hand against his ear, to focus on the other end.

"He's busy?!" Gardell shouted. "Well, I was a busy, too! Until your department decided to play politics with human lives." He felt his grip tighten on the phone. "Does it matter _who_ interrogates Summers? We have until tomorrow to stop whatever is happening to our children. If she knows something, I'm gonna find it out!"

Samuel, from by the TV, suddenly went very still.

"Um… Jim?" he called.

Gardell waved him off. "Listen, Ms. Habiba — I don't care who you are or how long you've been working there," he snapped into the phone. "You tell John Frobisher that I'm the best chance he's got at getting concrete information about what's going on! Neither Summers nor Hiskaloph trust the British government. But they might explain what's going on to a neutral party. If we can get any intelligence at all—"

"Jim!" Samuel shouted.

Gardell turned, sharply. "What?"

Then he stopped.

As he noticed what Samuel had seen on TV.

"To repeat, for those just tuning in," said Mitch Philhorn, in his shouty-pundit voice, "I have Adrian Carver on the phone. And you say… you've seen this kind of thing before?"

"Yeah," said Adrian, over the phone. "Or pretty close. Back in high school, one day, everyone — teachers, students, me — we all just kind of… froze. Just the same way the kids are doing all over the world, right now!"

"Interesting," said Mitch Philhorn. "Very interesting. And did you all speak in unison?"

"Well… no, we didn't," Adrian replied. "Actually, one of the teachers kind of flipped out. Started dancing around reciting foreign-sounding words and trying to summon a demon. It was like some kind of… cult ritual or something. We were all scared out of our minds! But nobody could move a muscle."

"Fascinating — isn't this fascinating, ladies and gentlemen?" Philhorn asked the American viewing public. "A real story of devil worship and terror striking our public schools. Striking our children. But Adrian — you said you survived thanks to one person."

"That's right, Mitch," said Adrian. "Buffy Summers."

Gardell's jaw dropped, as a picture of Summers appeared on the screen.

"I'll never forget it," said Adrian. "The teacher was going crazy, the kids were about to be ritually sacrificed to a satanic demon, and then… Buffy showed up. Put her own life at risk to make sure we were safe. And you know what? She stopped it. When no one else could!"

"Remarkable," said Philhorn, turning back to look right in the camera. "Absolutely remarkable. And the calls just keep pouring in, people. Calls from American men and women all across this country, who've been in situations just as strange — if not stranger — than the one we're in right now. Situations that endangered the lives of the children we love. Situations where the authorities had no idea how to act. And every situation was resolved by the same person. Buffy Summers."

"Oh, we are in _deep_ on this one," Samuel muttered.

Philhorn swiveled around on his chair, to face camera two. "Now, I know what you're saying. 'Mitch,' you're saying, 'you've finally cracked. Someone's playing a sick practical joke on you, and you're reporting it like it's real news!'"

"Probably," said Gardell.

"But I've looked into some of these stories we've been getting," Mitch said. Shuffled some papers around in front of him. "Terry Fisher. Remember her story? Her entire college campus went silent. Nobody could say a word!" He waved the papers at the camera. "And here is the proof." He held up a newspaper in front of the camera. "December 14, 1999. Sunnydale Infected with Mysterious City-Wide Laryngitis." He then pointed at the second story on the page. "And… I don't know if you can read this, but… just below that, 'Mysterious Deaths Baffle Police.' An article in which college students were accosted, in the middle of the night, their hearts torn out of their bodies… and the police were stumped!" He threw the paper down.

"Did that really happen?" said Gardell.

Samuel turned to his computer. "I'll check."

Mitch Philhorn, meanwhile, had jumped to his feet in a fit of righteous passion. "This is _real_, ladies and gentlemen!" he cried. "There have been incidents like this in LA, in Sunnydale, in Cleveland, all over the country! Mysterious acts of terror that have targeted our schools. Our children!" He threw out his hands. "And the government just… covers it all up!"

Gardell swore beneath his breath.

"And why?" Philhorn shouted. He gave a scoff. "Well, I think that's pretty obvious." He leaned into the camera. "The government _doesn't know how to stop it_! In fact, _no one _knows how to stop it!"

"He's gonna cause a riot," Samuel muttered.

Gardell felt his heart sink. "No," he said. "Something much worse than that."

"Except one person," Philhorn told his audience. "The one and only person who has, time and time again, saved our country from these anti-American terrorists. These satanic, devil-worshipping factions who target our children."

"He's giving the people hope," said Gardell. "By creating a hero."

"Buffy Summers," Philhorn declared. "Buffy Anne Summers. The greatest, most patriotic American hero there is."

And it was at that very moment… that John Frobisher finally answered Gardell's call.

The very moment that everything changed.

And anything Frobisher wanted… became impossible to accomplish.


	10. Chapter 10

Author's Note: You know they would have killed Giles if Gardell hadn't done this. Gotta admire the guy for something.

Damn, Ria's sneaky, though. I love her in this story. This plan is just brilliant!

(By the way, anyone else notice the cool role reversal? Back in Sunnydale, people were always protecting Dawn for Buffy's sake. Now, Ria's protecting Buffy for Dawn's sake! Go Dawn!)

Enjoy!

* * *

Hiskaloph was waiting for him, when Gardell came back.

Her eyes glittering, a proud smile on her face.

"You watch TV, yet?" she asked him.

This time, Gardell really did turn off all the cameras. Sat down across from her.

"I know what you're doing," Gardell said, in a low voice. "And it isn't going to help."

Hiskaloph leaned across the table. "Oh, really? What _am_ I doing?"

"You think the moment Summers steps back onto British soil, she'll be executed," Gardell replied. "So you've manipulated the media. Doctored the evidence. Turned Summers into some kind of hero, to force us into a position where we _can't_ hand her over."

"Oh, is _that_ what I'm doing?" Hiskaloph said. She mused it over. "You know, that would be really smart of me."

"Whatever your organization is trying to convince the American public, it won't work," said Gardell. "We're the FBI. We investigate forgeries, cover-ups, and faked documents all the time. It won't take us long to reveal the truth behind—"

"But what if it _is _the truth?" said Hiskaloph. "What if all those people telling all those stories actually do know her? And have been saved by her?" Her voice lowered. "What if she's not a terrorist — because she's a hero?"

Gardell was quiet for a long time.

Then, in a quiet voice, "Go on."

Hiskaloph smiled. "You've been looking into this, haven't you?" she asked. "You started investigating. You think I'm telling the truth. That there really is a conspiracy. Did you ask about Rupert Giles?"

Gardell steepled his hands against his chin. "He's alive," Gardell replied, at last. "In their custody. I've put a top priority on making sure he stays alive. You thought he was dead, didn't you?"

She clearly had.

Gardell didn't need a verbal confirmation to know that.

"I'm working on negotiating his release — on your behalf," Gardell continued. "I can have him out of there by the end of the week. But first, I want you to tell me what's going on."

His negotiations with Frobisher regarding Giles had given Gardell the intended effect.

Hiskaloph softened, at once.

"Are you telling the truth?" Hiskaloph verified.

"It's clear that whatever's going on with Torchwood, you're not involved," Gardell replied. "Neither is Rupert Giles. As far as I can tell, you, him, and Summers all met each other through the Slayer Institute, before Summers ever began working for Torchwood." He met her gaze, steadily, with his. "I don't have any reason to want him incarcerated."

Hiskaloph acknowledged this.

"Do you trust me to help you, now?" Gardell asked.

Hiskaloph considered. "Yes," she said, and it was the first time she'd sounded open and unguarded since this all began. "Actually, saving Giles makes all the difference."

Gardell had figured it would.

"So tell me," said Gardell. "What do you know about Torchwood? What do you know about Summers? And what do you know about our children?"

Hiskaloph thought a long moment. "I do trust you, Mr. Gardell," she said, at last. "But I think you're over-valuing your own importance." She folded her arms on the table. "If I were to tell you that I strongly suspect John Frobisher is making some kind of deal with an extra-terrestrial intelligence or demonic entity that wants to harm us or our children… what, exactly, would you do about that?"

Gardell blinked.

He honestly hadn't expected that.

"Just… accept I'm not insane, here, a minute," Hiskaloph continued, brushing aside his reaction. "Accept that aliens and demons and vampires are real, and Buffy and I handle them, and — this is the real reason why all your files on the Slayer Institute are vague and highly classified by a secret division of the military you probably haven't heard of."

"I am aware of aliens, Ms. Hiskaloph," Gardell cut in. "It's hard not to be, after the Sycorax, the Toclafane, and Harold Saxon."

"That makes my job easier," Hiskaloph replied. Crossed her legs. "So knowing that — my theory about Frobisher seems fairly standard, on the surface. Nothing out of the ordinary." She shrugged. "To be honest, it's the kind of thing I deal with all the time. But then—" Leaning forwards, pointing. "Then… there's Buffy. And that's where everything stops making sense."

"Go on," said Gardell.

"I don't think I can," Hiskaloph admitted. "I don't know what's going on. Aside from the obvious — you have Buffy's file, but you had no idea she was a monster-fighting hero. How's that possible?"

Gardell didn't know how to answer this.

"She was cleared to work for the Initiative," said Hiskaloph. "That's a top-level security clearance. You should know all about her."

"Some items from her file had been… misplaced," Gardell admitted. "Checking back dates and documents, it soon became clear that her file was incomplete."

Hiskaloph leaned over the table. "And _that's_ what doesn't make sense," she agreed. "Frobisher doesn't have access to your files. So who edited them? Who misplaced all those documents about Buffy?"

Gardell didn't know.

It suggested that Hiskaloph had been right to be wary of divulging her secrets to the FBI. That this conspiracy might go further than he'd thought.

"And then there's the children," said Hiskaloph. She leveled her gaze steadily at Gardell. "Do you know why this is the first time you've had to deal with this kind of thing? It's because usually, we make sure you don't have to. UNIT. The Slayers. Torchwood. Buffy. But this time… everyone's away. And those who aren't are being quietly arrested or killed."

"I don't understand," said Gardell. "I thought Torchwood was—"

"I'm betting that's why Buffy and I haven't been taken out of your hands, and transferred to the alien-fighting division of the government," said Hiskaloph. "Because all your alien-fighters are conveniently away. Somewhere… at a guess… where you can't contact them. Or you'd have done it by now."

Gardell didn't know what to say to this.

Hiskaloph pursed her lips, thinking it through. "And then… there's Buffy. The one thread connecting all of this together. Connecting all the coincidences."

"You think so?" Gardell confirmed.

Hiskaloph looked glum. "It's worrying," she muttered. "Because it's something she'd never purposely cause. So… it's being done _to_ her. And I don't know why."

As Gardell had hypothesized.

Hiskaloph was protecting Summers because she was certain Summers was being used and abused by some kind of terrorist plot.

It had just never occurred to him… that aliens might be part of this, as well.

"What's being done to her?" said Gardell. "Who's doing it?"

Hiskaloph sighed. "I don't know," she admitted. "I've got a theory, but…"

"What theory?"

"Well… I think this is just like with Harold Saxon," said Hiskaloph. "Someone's been planning this for a while. Going behind the scenes. Quietly making sure anyone who could stop it is out of the way before things really start. I think Frobisher's being set up as the fall-guy. And I think Buffy…" She paused. Frowned. "…actually, I don't really know where Buffy fits into this."

"I… see," said Gardell.

"But she's important, somehow," said Hiskaloph. "Whatever's happening to her, it's connected to everything else. She's the one who'll solve this for us. And… I…" Hiskaloph hesitated. Then, in a whisper, added, "I think she knows more than she knows she knows, if that makes sense."

It didn't.

But Gardell figured he'd mull it over. Check up on some facts. See how Hiskaloph's story fit together with everything else he'd worked out.

Hiskaloph smiled, broadly. "There," she said, in a much louder voice. "Now I've told you what I know. Not that you'll be able to use any of it against Buffy, of course."

Which was when it struck Gardell.

The only reason Hiskaloph was talking, now, was because she'd already used her media strategy to put Summers in the public eye. Make sure the FBI was placed in the position where they couldn't use any of it against Summers.

"Very clever," Gardell said. "And I'm guessing you have your Institute on standby to disclose that we're holding Summers under suspicion of terrorism, if we do use anything you've said against her?"

Hiskaloph leaned back in her chair. "They don't have to be," she said. "Think of it this way. All the kids in the world are talking in unison, giving out threats, and freaking everyone out. But I've helped you. Quelled mass panic, by giving the people someone they can believe in. Someone they know can save them. The only catch is—"

"—if we do anything to Summers," Gardell finished, "we lose our hero. And the people get scared, again."

"And lose all faith in the government's ability to protect them," Hiskaloph agreed. "Since _you_ handed her over."

Meaning… if they did anything to Summers…

A nation-wide riot would break out.

Yes. Whatever else Hiskaloph was, she was definitely smart. There was no doubting that.

"Is there any way we can negotiate this?" Gardell asked. "Stop your media campaign? You, yourself, admitted that you don't know what Summers' role is in this whole thing. She might be involved — we might still need to move against her in order to stop this."

Hiskaloph gave a small shrug. "Except she's innocent. A victim, not an instigator." She shook her head. "So… no. I think I'll let this media campaign play out. Call it… my insurance. Something up my sleeve, just to make sure she's all right."

Gardell stood up, at the table. "I know you're just trying to protect your friend, Hiskaloph," he said. "But other people might not see it that way. To some, it could look like you're trying to incite mass panic. Making the American people believe only a terrorist can save them."

Hiskaloph didn't seem concerned. "People believe all kinds of things."

"I'm only trying to help you," Gardell told her.

Hiskaloph smiled. "Yes, I think you are." Then shook her head. "But that's the thing. I'm not the one who needs it." Her mirth fell away. And she met Gardell's eyes, steadily. "Help _her_. She's the important one."


	11. Chapter 11

Author's Note: I might be a little bit too busy to update over July 4th. But I'll update as soon as I can, afterwards!

Enjoy!

* * *

"You know, Ria's plan aside, I actually hate this guy," Xander said, pointing his thumb at the TV. Mitch Philhorn's face filled the screen. "He's loud-mouth and a bigot."

Willow didn't answer. She was bent over the board-looking thing with the blinking lights, that they'd brought back from London. Trying to find some way to get inside it.

Faith gave an uncomfortable shrug, as she watched Philhorn. "Don't like this plan," she muttered. "Not one bit."

"Because it makes _Buffy_ out to be the big hero, not you?" Vi guessed.

Faith shot Vi a look. "Don't be stupid. I'm done with that."

Vi took a slightly reprimanded step back.

Faith's eyes drifted back to the screen. Her face solemn. "Just… plan doesn't help _Ria _any." She crossed her arms, leaning back on her heels. "Even if B gets out… dunno if Ria will."

"If… we _want_ Buffy out," Willow said, so quietly that almost no one caught it.

Except for Kennedy. Who shot her a weird look.

Willow didn't explain.

"You figured out what that board-looking thing is, yet, Will?" Xander asked, turning towards them.

"I thought it was what was bringing the aliens," Vi offered. "Or… making kids speak together or something."

Willow shook her head. "That's just it," she said. "This device doesn't activate only when the aliens communicate. It activates _all the time_. For totally random stuff." She shook her head. "And besides. Whoever or whatever is coming tomorrow… they didn't build this."

Xander raised his eyebrows. "You sure?"

"Total sure," Willow said. Folded her arms on the table in front of her. "The kids speaking in unison is a terror tactic. That means these 'We-Are-Coming' monsters can't just _take _what they want — they have to intimidate us to make us give it to them."

"So?" said Vi.

Willow knocked on the top of the board-thing. "Whoever built _this_ device… wouldn't have to intimidate. They'd just take."

"The technology's _that_ sophisticated?" said Kennedy.

Willow shrugged. "I told you. _Massive_ mystical energy. I mean, before the kids were talking in unison, this thing was just kind of ticking over, buried way beneath London — and even that was enough to make Buffy seriously sick."

"So… so… if it's that evil, why don't we just destroy it?" Vi asked.

"Think we haven't tried that?" said Faith.

"Yeah, not even a Flaming Sword can make a dent in that thing," Kennedy agreed. "And those are from the future."

"What did Buffy call it?" said Xander. "A Crystallographer?"

"Crystallizer," said Willow. "And don't ask me how she knew the name. Because I've got no idea."

Willow closed her eyes. A look of intense concentration flooding across her face. She reached out, her skin glowing with a faint red energy, and ran her hands over the object's surface.

"It's weird," Willow said, the hints of her magic still tingling at the tips of her fingers. "Like this Crystallizer thing is… almost… alive. And..." Her brow furrowed. "…I dunno. Familiar, somehow. Like something I've seen… before…"

Then the Crystallizer hummed.

And, with a swirl of Willow's magical energy, a small door on its front revealed itself. Then popped open.

The whole room broke into serious applause.

"Hey, go Will!" said Xander, clapping her on the back. "Way to work it with the magic."

But Willow wasn't looking happy.

No.

She was looking horrified.

As she stared through the hatch. At the inside of the thin board. "Oh, no," she breathed. "This is bad. This is really, really bad!"

Then the others looked.

And noticed.

"What?" said Vi. She ducked down towards it. Looked inside the hatch. "Um… that's an illusion, right?" She stuck her hand through it.

Her hand should have just barely fit.

Except she was able to dip down all the way to her elbow, inside. Stretch her hand freely in all directions.

Her fingers tried grabbing at the wires, to yank them loose, but drifted through the internal systems like they weren't really there at all. Except… they were there. It was all there. Just untouchable.

Unalterable.

But very, _very_ real.

She took her hand away. Turned to the others, showing the device. "Magic. It's got to be magic!"

Xander went just as pale as Willow, when he saw it.

"It's not magic or an illusion," Xander realized. Looked over at Willow. "It's… that board-thing — it actually _is_…"

"Bigger on the inside," Willow agreed. "Yes."


	12. Chapter 12

Author's Note: I hate my job.

I hate, hate, hate, hate, HATE my job.

I worked almost 60 hours last week, preparing for July 4. Gave out a free bottle of wine to our guests and bought beach passes and slaved away at the rooms for ages! And what do I have to show for it? A few people who were vaguely happy but upset about things I can't actually do anything about (I mean, seriously, you're complaining that there are housekeeping items out when the housekeepers are cleaning rooms?! Are you INSANE?!), but not very specific, and one person who just slammed us into the ground because we bent over backwards for them and fixed everything they said even when it was unreasonable, and they just didn't care. One star, saying we were horrible and not worth the price - which, by the way, we ARE! I mean, FREE BOTTLE OF FINE IMPORTED FRENCH WINE OVER HERE! But they made us sound like a total dump, as if we HADN'T fixed anything. I mean, geeze! Some people!

Plus, I get no overtime pay. I don't get minimum wage. And as I get more professional training in things like accounting, my uncle's started to realize that I can always do everything cheaper than everyone else - therefore, he should just fire everyone else and make it all be MY job.

And my room's full of bugs and smells like cigarette smoke, because the hotel guests have decided the designated smoking area should be right outside my room. And it's small and terrible and has no kitchen, so I've got lousy food.

And I don't make enough to qualify for health benefits, so California's stuck me on this plan that doesn't pay for anything.

To conclude... I HATE MY JOB!

In a kind of funny note, I was ranting to someone earlier about how much I hate my job, and how no one listens to me, and realized that I was inadvertently quoting a line of dialogue I'd actually written for Seo. Haha! I think my frustrations and insecurities and under-appreciation at my job is getting funneled into my writing.

Anyways.

Enough of that rant. Good to see all that bad stuff is going into something that people actually ENJOY.

(I mean, really! We gave them complimentary beach passes and corkscrews and everything! Even rose petals on their beds! What do you have to do to make people happy, here?! If I could tear down the hotel and build a five million dollar mansion with AC for every single guest, and still charge them a hundred a night for it, then that'd be great. But it's NOT GOING TO HAPPEN, PEOPLE!)

Enjoy!

* * *

When Gardell returned to Summers for another interrogation, he found she was different, yet again. Much more coherent, her eyes focused and her stance determined.

"Okay, I thought about it," said Summers, folding her hands on the table in front of her, looking self-confident and poised. "And I've decided… this whole yelling-at-each-other thing is going nowhere. We're both trying to save the kids. So let's put our heads together and figure out how to do that."

This version of Summers… seemed to match the accounts that people were giving on TV.

The self-confident, face-down-anything, open and willing to share information version of the belligerent person he'd been interrogating the other day.

Gardell was beginning to see what Hiskaloph meant.

"You do know," Gardell reminded her, "that you're being interrogated because you're under suspicion of terrorism."

Summers waved the notion away. "So shine a bright light in my eyes or whatever!" she said. Brushed back her hair. "Okay. So. Here's what I know. Kids everywhere went all with the mega-zombie-trance, and started speaking in unison."

Gardell sat back.

Decided to let her continue.

"So then I'm thinking — magic spell?" Summers offered. "Or alien freaky-tech thing that I don't know about? Like… oh, that Christmas when that spaceship hovered over London, and everyone went up to the roof! You remember that?"

Yes.

He did.

"It's pretty similar," Summers decided. "So, yeah. Definitely scare-tactics. That means whatever monsters are controlling the kids, they're not as strong as they want us to think. If they _were_ Mayor-Style Invulnerable, they wouldn't have to scare us. They'd just come here, tear up the Earth, and take what they wanted."

Gardell nodded.

Didn't answer.

"Which leads us to the start of massive weirdness," Summers concluded. Punching the table for emphasis. "Because that means… this shouldn't have been a real threat. I mean, we should be able to defeat them. But… then… someone took out Torchwood."

"Who do you think did that?" Gardell asked.

Time to confirm or disprove Hiskaloph's story.

"Well, that's where the weirdness comes in," said Summers. "Because it's not just Torchwood out of commission, right? All my UNIT buds are out in the middle of nowhere, uncontactable by any means — which means UNIT's massively short-handed and brain-drained. Giles has disappeared. Ria's imprisoned. And… well, basically everyone else who deals with aliens has been handicapped in some way or other." She shook her head. "I mean, it's just like that Harold Saxon thing! Like someone's trying to get us all out of the way."

Harold Saxon.

Hiskaloph had mentioned the similarity with that, too.

"Except…" Summers faltered. Her face growing increasingly somber. "Except that time, the Doctor didn't know it was coming. And this time… he did. He _warned_ me. He said…" She shuddered. "He said we were going to lose."

"Doctor?" Gardell asked.

"The time traveler I told you about," Summers put in, with a helpful smile. "Remember? I'm pretty sure I mentioned him."

Gardell had heard something about a 'Doctor'. Whispered rumors that circulated around the highest echelons of the government. Not a lot of it had made much sense to him.

Summers' face turned into a deep frown. As she thought, hard. "If only I could remember exactly what he said," she muttered. "It was back when I was facing down Glory. I remember that. He seemed really antsy about the Key. Like… you could tell he'd been interrogated about it and stuff. Guantanamo-style interrogated, not… whatever this is." She waved her hand at the room. "Lights and confusion and way too many questions. Are you guys ever gonna tell me what day it is?"

"What else did he tell you?" Gardell pressed her. "About what was happening here?"

Summers threaded her hands through her hair. "Oh, God, I don't remember," she admitted. "It was years ago. I wrote it all down in this little red notebook, just in case it was important… but that notebook got craterized when the Hellmouth collapsed."

Gardell nodded.

Slowly.

"But I do remember… he said someone wanted the Key," said Summers. "Because it's this super-powerful mystical artifact that can alter the universe and stuff. He wouldn't give it up, and they knew he loved this planet, so…" she shrugged. "You know. Kids. Evilness. Lots of people dying."

Gardell didn't know how much of this to believe.

Aliens he understood. There was no use denying them, at this point.

But… mystical artifacts? Time travel? Hellmouths?!

"The Doctor seemed really upset about it," said Summers. Her voice lowering, her body drooping, as she remembered. "Totally guilty. And he said…" Her voice faltered. "He said I didn't stop it."

Which wasn't the story he'd gotten from Hiskaloph.

She'd led Gardell to believe Summers was the only one who _could_ stop this.

"You… can't help the children," Gardell verified.

"I'm getting to that!" Summers insisted. Held up a hand. "Don't rush me, here. I mean, give some extra-planning-time to the dying woman."

Gardell raised his eyebrows. "Dying?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm… um… dying," Summers admitted. She fidgeted. "I think. Or… something. I don't know, anymore." She frowned. "Every time the children speak… this… I mean, I dug up…"

She drifted off.

A wave of confusion suddenly running across her face.

And in a single moment, her body language, her manner, everything about her… changed. _Again_.

"Children," Summers said, and her voice was softer, a little more gentle. Her movements all a little more fluid, as she fidgeted with the sleeve of her shirt. "It all comes back to children. I… I can't remember… if I have any…"

She drifted off.

Her face bent deep in concentration.

"I mean, Tom and I always talked about it," Summers went on. "But… I think…" She tapped her nose, in thought. "No, wait. We have two girls. Or… is it two boys? And… why don't I know this?"

"And Tom," Gardell said, "is…?"

Summers blinked. Then her stance changed, again, as if she were shaking off an old skin. And her voice went back to normal. "An ex," she said. "Sorry, I… don't know where I got that from. Tom's been dead for… years, now."

"Just like… 'Michael'," Gardell noted. "And 'Harris'. And 'Benjy'."

Summers frowned. "Yeah. I… uh…" She shook her head. "Wait, how do you know all my ex…?"

"You keep bringing them up," said Gardell. "Every time you get confused." He took a long pause. Then gave her a kind smile. "Ms. Summers. Tell me about your family."

Summers immediately went tense. Like she was a cat, waiting to spring. Her eyes narrowing. "Why?"

"I'm interested," Gardell replied. Then, trying to work it in as nonchalantly as possible, "Do you have children?"

"I'm not married," Summers snapped.

"That's not what I asked."

Summers was quiet for a very long time.

"This… it's… Look, what does this have to do with anything?" Summers said, at last. "This isn't about _my_ kids… whether real or deleted or whatever. It's about everyone else's! I mean, what?" She gave a nervous laugh. "You think this is me conjuring up some space alien kid-snatchers from my subconscious, because I'm bitter about super-dimensional beings screwing up my life? Because that's just… that's just nuts!"

But Summers was nervous, uneasy, and Gardell could tell.

Interesting.

"Who needs kids!" Summers said. Throwing up her hands. "I never had any. And I'm fine! Just because my boyfriends keep dying and I…"

She hesitated.

"Wait, or… I mean, I think I don't have…" A wave of confusion flooded Summers' face, again. "But… I remember someone. She's important. A…"

Her face went pale.

Her whole body stock-still, in an instant.

"Alison," Summers whispered. "Alison was her best friend. And Alison… she couldn't have… she _shouldn't _have…"

She went quiet.

Then squeezed her eyes shut.

A shudder running through her. "Wrong," Summers said. She ran hands through her hair, and then doubled over. Whether from pain or from nearly breaking down into hysterics, it was hard to tell. "Wrong! _Wrong!_ It's all wrong! Alison's dead! She shouldn't be dead! I… I can't…"

"Summers," said Gardell. Very slowly. Very firmly. "Do you know what's making you sick?"

Summers didn't answer.

But he could see, from the way her whole body was suddenly trembling… that she did.

Or… rather… a part of her did.

The part of her that seemed to alter by the second. Whose body-language was completely different, who seemed to have a different life and a different family.

Who had children.

Summers then looked up at Gardell. Her entire manner had changed, once again. Suddenly aggressive. Cold. Cruel. "And what if I don't tell you?" she said. A little grin on her face. Her voice dropping. "What if you never find out? What if I'm your only hope — your only salvation — and I've decided not to help you?"

Gardell remained unshakeable. "_I'm_ the one trying to help _you_," he reminded her.

She leaned forwards. "Everyone always says that," she replied. "But you don't. You just want me to spill the beans. Tell you everything you need to know, and how to save the day." Her voice lowered, and her expression grew almost predatory. "I found it. What's making me sick. And what's making the kids speak in unison." Her eyes gleamed. "I found the Quantum Crystallizer."

Now this was very interesting.

"What is a Quantum Crystallizer?" Gardell asked.

Summers laughed in his face. "Oh, you'd like to know, wouldn't you?" she said. Waggled a finger at him. "But I'm the only one can answer. And I'm not telling."

Then Summers doubled up again.

Crying out, in pain, her hands against her head.

"It's too much!" Summers shouted, every bit of cruelty and coldness dropping away in an instant. "It's… it's all inside my head! All these people and all these voices, and they're all _me_! I can't… I can't… I don't know who I am, anymore! I don't…!"

Then she stopped.

Froze.

"And do you know who you are, now, Ms. Summers?" Gardell asked.

"In every generation, there is a chosen one," Summers said, in a monotone. Her eyes fixed into the distance. "One girl, in all the world, who… fights…" Her face fell. "Alison said they were coming back. Over and over again. Returning, returning, always returning… returning through the darkness and the void. They are returning because it is returning and… and…"

She blinked.

Then her eyes focused back on Gardell.

And everything clicked back into place. Her first personality, the self-confident hero.

"Sorry. Sorry," Summers said. Sitting up, tall, trying to resume her previous officiousness. "I… um… I've been having these dizzy-spells. Headaches." Gritted her teeth. "Must have had another one. Total funness."

Gardell analyzed her.

Then, in a low voice, "Do you remember what you just told me, Ms. Summers?"

Summers shot him a weird look. "About what? The Key? Or is this going to be something about you not believing in aliens and magic and whatever? Because…"

Summers winced, hand to her head.

"God, these headaches are killing me," she muttered. Then, sucking in a sharp breath, "Possibly literally. I'll get back to you on that one."

Gardell nodded.

Then pressed a small button, on the bottom of the desk. One that responded to his thumbprint.

The door opened, and one of Gardell's coworkers came in with a pitcher of water and a glass. Set it down, then left.

"So you don't remember anything," Gardell said, pouring her a glass, "about a… Crystallizer? About something returning, over and over again?"

"Oh, that!" said Summers. She planted a smile on her face, but it was clear that she was wracking her brains, trying to find a cover. "Yeah, I remember… that… stuff. Absolutely!"

Gardell wondered just how many times she'd played this game with herself.

And how many times she'd lost.

"Stuff," Gardell repeated.

Summers slumped in her seat. "Okay. You got me."

Gardell nodded. "So you don't remember anything?"

"I dunno," said Summers. "The things you said all _sound_ familiar. Like… I know what they are. Or… I know I _knew_. But… the thoughts, the memories… they're hard to grasp."

He offered her the glass of water, and she took it.

Just held it, a moment, her fingers drumming across the surface.

"Crystallizer," Summers repeated. "I remember the Crystallizer. Or… I think I do. I…" She thought a lot harder. Concentrated, her brow knitted. "It's… important. I'm sure of that. The most important thing of all."

Interesting.

Summers shook her head. "Maybe I'll remember later," she said.

Downed the water in one go.

Then smiled at Gardell.

"Thanks for that," said Summers, putting the glass down on the table. "Mysterious illnesses really take it out of you."

Gardell nodded. "This… Crystallizer," he said. "You said it was responsible for the children speaking in unison."

Summers frowned. "I did?"

"You also said," Gardell continued, "it's what's making you sick."

Summers opened her mouth to speak, but no sounds came out.

"You said… this was happening over and over again," said Gardell. "The children said that, too. They're coming _back._ Whomever is making the children speak in unison… have they been here, before? Is the Crystallizer left over from last time they showed up?"

"I… I can't…" Summers began.

But didn't seem able to get the words out.

"I know you _want_ to help," Gardell said. "That's clear. But you need to tell me. What's going to happen? How can we stop this?"

"I… can't… breathe…" Summers choked.

Then fell to the ground, suddenly feverish and unconscious.

Gardell raced forwards, but could tell immediately that this wasn't a 'dizzy-spell'. Her throat had nearly closed up, her heart was shutting down, her internal organs failing.

Two seconds later, the door burst open. And a medical staff were crowding around, injecting her with something and then heading off with her to the medical center.

Gardell stayed behind.

Staring at the pitcher of water, still on the table-top.

Samuel came running in. "I saw the medical staff. What—?"

"Poison," Gardell said. His eyes never leaving the pitcher. "I recognized the symptoms. Someone poisoned the water." He grabbed the glass up, his knuckles turning white.

Hiskaloph was right.

Someone in the FBI knew what was going on. And didn't want Summers to talk.

This was becoming an even more dangerous game than he'd thought.

* * *

"And so," Mitch Philhorn reported, on his show, "as today winds down, and the world waits for whatever is coming tomorrow… well, I think I speak for myself as well as everybody else in this country when I say this."

He turned around to face Camera 2.

"Buffy Summers," he said. "Where are you?"


	13. Day 3

Author's Note: Uh... yeah. Day 3's kind of weird. Sorry about that.

I do like the Director's attitude towards Gardell's problems, here. You gotta feel at least a bit bad for Gardell, though; he clearly does want to do the best for everyone, but there's a whole diplomacy thing going on between the US and Britain that's messing him up.

Well... that and... alien stuff.

Enjoy!

* * *

Day 3.

* * *

"Five in the morning," Xander said, putting down a cup of coffee in front of Willow. "Rise and shine."

Willow jerked up from where she'd fallen asleep, at her desk, beside the Crystallizer. Still trying to find some way to figure out what it did, or how to destroy it. But finding neither.

"Five?" said Willow. Then seemed to register this. "Five. AM."

Xander nodded.

"And there's still no sign they've…?" Willow checked.

"She's still in there," said Xander. "Locked up."

Willow just sipped at her coffee. Not answering.

"You know what Ria's plan says to do next," Xander reminded her. "If they don't release her."

"But what if they're right?" Willow muttered.

Xander blinked. Then blinked again.

"Um… about the Buffy-terrorist part?" Xander checked. "Or the keeping-Buffy-near-the-government part, or… what?"

"Nothing," Willow decided. Reaching for the phone. "No, you're right. Buffy's the key to all of this. If there's any way to get her out, we have to take it."

She just really hoped she was doing the right thing.

* * *

The Director was furious.

"What the hell is this?!" he shouted, slamming down the article he'd just printed out.

It was everywhere.

All over every paper, every news channel, every blog, every media outlet. Everyone had known, from the second Gardell had woken up that morning.

_FBI Holds Summers Under Suspicion of Terrorism_.

"Hiskaloph," Gardell breathed.

This was it. Her insurance. To make sure they'd release Summers.

"This should never have been leaked," Gardell insisted. "Everything's been top-secret, Director. I'll—"

"What?" the Director snapped. "What will you do? Tell the press she's in the hospital after being nearly poisoned?" He glared down at the article, fuming. "Of all the times for this to happen!"

Gardell understood that only too well.

Gardell's son, Tommy, had only just woken up for school that morning, when the boy had frozen. Begun pointing towards the North-East. Towards London.

And towards the streak of fire that had struck Thames House.

"Summers knows something," Gardell put in. "That's why she was poisoned. To keep it quiet! It's all muddled and confused in her head… but I know there's something there. Something we can use to stop…"

He froze under the Director's death-glare.

"James Gardell," said the Director, evenly. "A mysterious alien creature has just materialized in Thames House. The Brits are trying to usurp the negotiations. Half this country is scared out of their minds, the other half is screaming for our heads." He shook the article at Gardell. "I don't have time to deal with the press!"

"Yes, sir," said Gardell. "But I think—"

"Don't think!" shouted the Director. "Just fix it!"

"Yes, right on it, sir," Gardell said.

But how to fix it… that was the question.

Gardell tried to see Hiskaloph, again. Get more information. But for some reason, he was barred from interrogating her. She'd been stirring up the public, Gardell was told, spreading terror, fear, and panic by usurping the media.

It was a weak argument.

Which was why it was all the more suspicious that… it seemed to stick.

"I'm wondering… if I should just release Summers," Gardell confessed to Samuel. He shook his head. "There's clearly something going on with her. But I don't think she's a terrorist. And I think she could do more good if we let her work with us voluntarily, rather than under incarceration."

Samuel stared at him. "I thought you said she knew something."

"She does," Gardell said. "But… she doesn't _know_ she does." He paused, a long moment. His brow furrowed. Then, admitted, "I think she's switching between multiple personalities."

"A schizophrenic terrorist?" Samuel laughed. "It gets better every time."

Gardell thought it through. "I… don't think it's that simple," he decided. He put up surveillance footage of Summers' interrogation, from yesterday. Skipped forwards, then paused the recording. "There." He pointed at the screen. At her arm. "Those scratches. She didn't have those, before."

"So she scratched herself," said Samuel.

Gardell held up a single finger. "Just watch."

Then skipped the recording forwards. Until the next headache, and then…

"What the…?" said Samuel, squinting, as Gardell paused the recording. "I'm seeing things."

"Nope. The scratches just disappeared," Gardell agreed. "In an instant." He put down the zapper. "I've looked through the footage. The length of her hair keeps changing, too. Whatever's going on with Summers, it's not _just_ mental. There's a physical aspect as well. She's… transforming into different versions of herself."

"That's nuts," Samuel pointed out. "You know that's nuts, right?"

Gardell didn't answer.

It was all he had.

It made no sense. Followed no rules of logic he knew. But how could he deny what he'd seen with his own eyes?

"So… what?" said Samuel, crossing his arms. "You think some… other personality knows something? But the real her doesn't?"

"I think all of them, together, know enough to stop this," Gardell replied. He looked down at his hands, sighing. "It's just a matter of… figuring out how to get that all into a personality that'll be able to help us. And I think… I can do that better if she's not a prisoner."

Samuel scoffed.

"It'd be the easiest way to save face," said Gardell. "We could tell the press we haven't _arrested_ her — she's here because she's working with us."

That was probably what Hiskaloph had intended for them to do, all along.

"One problem with that," Samuel pointed out. "She's still in the hospital, getting over being poisoned. By someone in this building. I don't think she'll want to work for us, after that."

It was a problem.

A big problem.

And one Gardell was glad the press hadn't found out about, yet.

But there was a second problem with releasing Summers. One that only came later, when the general who'd been sent to oversee 456 negotiations in London — General Austin Pierce — called in, requesting to speak with Gardell, in person.

"I've been told you want to release Summers," Pierce said.

"Once she gets out of the hospital, yes," Gardell replied. "She's not a terrorist. And I think—"

"Are you _insane_?!" Pierce shouted.

Gardell had to hold the phone away from his ear, to avoid going deaf from Pierce's outburst

"I've read your reports on Summers and the 456 situation," Pierce said. "You're right. Something fishy's going on, here. The Brits were planning this. They've built the 456 negotiations to order. If that Summers knows something, I want her in US custody. I want the Brits to know we have her, and we're not giving her up."

Gardell was a little surprised. He hadn't thought anyone would believe him that it was a conspiracy. "You really do believe Frobisher's hiding something?"

"Damn right he is!" shouted Pierce. "This is all one great big conspiracy against the United States! Britain thinks it can get into the space game by being underhanded like this? Well, guess what? We own the moon! That was Neil Armstrong up there, not… Mr. Tea-and-Bad-Teeth!"

"Legally," Gardell argued, "if Summers isn't a terrorist, we can't hold her without due process of—"

"Oh, figure something out!" snapped Pierce. "It's a global emergency, Gardell! If most of the world is wiped out by alien firepower, no one's going to look back through the history books and say, 'well, at least they upheld the constitution'! Get your head in the game."

Gardell didn't like it.

Really didn't like it.

"There isn't a tumor," the doctors told Gardell, when he checked. "Or any other long-term illness. We looked again and again, for anything that could be causing these… headaches. But aside from the poison, she's perfectly healthy. There's nothing medically wrong with her."

"There's nothing medically wrong with any of the kids, either," Gardell pointed out. "It's not stopping them from talking in unison."

He found Summers sitting up in her hospital bed.

Her face furrowed in intense concentration, as she thought the whole thing through.

"How are you feeling?" Gardell asked.

Summers looked up. Brushed her hair back. "Less poisony."

Gardell nodded.

Couldn't say anything in response.

"I've been thinking," said Summers. "About… you know. What you said. About… children." She shook her head. "I mean… you're right. It always comes back to children. The Crystallizer. Me. All of it."

"Children?" Gardell prompted.

"Yeah… or… I don't know," Summers said. Hand up to her head. "It's confused. Really confused. And I don't _feel_ like a terrorist, I don't _want_ to hurt anyone, but… I mean…." She stared down, into her lap. "Do you think I'm causing all of this?"

"I don't know," Gardell admitted. Coming closer to her. "What makes you think so?"

"Because… it's just… the whole me-having-kids thing," Summers said. "It's… I don't know. Related or something." Her face fell, and for a long moment, she was very quiet. Then, "Ever since Sunnydale, my boyfriends keep dying. I thought it was a coincidence, but it turned out… these alien multi-dimensional guys had screwed around with my life. Made sure I couldn't… have kids. Ever."

"They made you sterile?" said Gardell.

That wasn't in her medical files.

"No, nothing like that," said Summers. "They used temporal manipulation. Not… biological stuff."

"Temporal…?"

"Yeah, they… you know." Summers shrugged, trying to brush off her depression as if the whole thing didn't matter. "Looked through time… found all the possibilities for my future in which I might have kids…" She pantomimed a pair of scissors. "And… snip, snip. All gone."

Gardell nodded, slowly.

"That's why all my boyfriends kept dying," said Summers. "Or breaking up with me totally randomly. Before we… got to the point of being intimate. So I wouldn't have kids."

It sounded like she was serious. About everything she'd said about time travel and timelines and… all of it.

Gardell didn't know what to believe.

But after what he'd seen yesterday… with Summers' shifting personalities… Gardell was prepared to believe it. Believe her.

"That means somewhere out there, I've got a whole bunch of other-mes," Summers said, with a morose laugh. "Mes with kids. And families."

And one other-her, Gardell assumed, who had a scratch on her arm.

Ah.

This was starting to make sense.

"You do realize you're shifting between these different-yous," Gardell told her. "Right?"

Summers gave him a funny look. "What are you talking about? Are you… saying I'm schizophrenic? Because I'm not!" She gave him a thunderous look. "I'm not crazy! There really _are_ other—"

"What is the Crystallizer?" Gardell interrupted. Deciding he did not want to have a discussion about insanity in a room monitored by doctors. "What does it have to do with the 456?"

"The 45…?" Summers repeated. Then paused. "456. That sounds familiar."

"The aliens who are controlling the kids," Gardell clarified. "What's their connection with that Crystallizer you mentioned?"

"Oh, 456 — Alison said that!" Summers remembered. "That's where I heard it before! From Alison!" Her face fell. "Before she died. And I… I never found out how she knew… or why, or… I don't know." She clenched her jaw. "It doesn't make sense, when I think about it too hard. Like… Alison's being dead is some… puzzle piece that just doesn't fit. It's _wrong_. It shouldn't have…"

Summers had harped on Alison's death before.

Gardell knew. Somehow… that was important.

"Alison knew something, didn't she?" Gardell guessed. "She'd figured something out about our alien visitors. The 456 realized she knew about them, and didn't like it. They made sure she got killed, before they arrived."

"No, not the… wait, did you just say the aliens have already landed?" Summers jumped to her feet. "Then we've got to get out and do some serious monster-fighting! I mean, these 456 guys are going to kill our kids!"

"We have no indication of that," Gardell countered. "They've opened up negotiations with us. The world leaders believe we should assume they're not here harm us, until we receive evidence proving otherwise."

"They're making our kids speak in unison!" said Summers. "Freaking everyone out! That's not a very friendly gesture."

"Perhaps it's normal on their world," Gardell replied. Repeating, almost word-for-word, what he'd heard from General Austin Pierce. "It'd be stupid to start a war we can't win with an alien race who isn't hostile."

"They're hostile," Summers said. "Trust me. I've got Slayer-senses."

"If, however," Gardell told her, "you can prove that the 456 used that Crystallizer to kill Alison…"

Summers clenched her fists, turning on Gardell. "No, _they_ didn't kill Alison!" she insisted. Pointed at him. "I told you. These… what did you call them?"

"456."

"These 456," said Buffy. "They're resorting to scare-tactics. Trying to puff themselves up! The Crystallizer… that's temporal technology. If the 456 had that, they wouldn't bother with the scare tactics or the negotiations. They'd just go with the grabby-grabby."

Gardell nodded, slowly. "But… you said the 456 were hostile."

"They are," Summers agreed. "But they're being used. Just like us. We're all puppets. That's why the Doctor said we couldn't stop it. Because the real enemy… well… maybe they're just too powerful for us _to_ stop."


	14. Chapter 14

Author's Note: Time for some answers!

* * *

"I don't get it," said Vi. Staring at the news footage of the fire crashing to Earth. "I mean, it's pretty clear this Fireball Thing is an alien. And that aliens have been causing all the kids to speak together. But… why's Buffy reacting to everything the aliens do to us?"

Willow sighed. "She's not." Raised up the Crystallizer. "She's reacting to _this_. The only reason it _looks_ like she's connected to the aliens… is because this Crystallizer is doing something to the aliens, as well."

"Get rid of the Crystallizer," Kennedy added, "and Buffy would be fine. Even if the aliens stuck around."

Xander paced the room, his eyes on the Crystallizer. "So… this is some war-thing, right?" he guessed. "The aliens in that fire-beam are some kind of weapon or something, manufactured during the whole showdown between the evil metal exterminate-o-pots and Time Lords."

"And that Crystallizer is their remote control!" Vi agreed.

Willow looked down at the Crystallizer. Then shook her head. "No," she said. "I really doubt that."

Kennedy raised her eyebrows. Leaned over the table. "So what?"

"It's… just a theory," Willow admitted, "but… I don't think our fireball aliens know anything about this. I think they're being manipulated just as much as we are."

Xander nodded slowly. "Okay… explain better."

Willow waved the Crystallizer at him. "It's only reacting with Buffy, right?" she said. "I mean, out of this whole planet, there's only one person with a direct reaction — not to the aliens, but to _this_. Before the aliens ever even got here."

"So what's special about her?" said Kennedy.

Vi laughed into her hand. "What _isn't _special about her? I mean, her whole life's just… improbable."

"Just like this whole thing now is improbable," Willow agreed. "The Brits getting rid of Torchwood for no apparent reason. All the really competent alien-fighter guys being somewhere totally inaccessible right when this started. It's all improbable. But it all happened."

Xander froze in place. Turned wide eyes on Willow, as he suddenly realized. "Oh, God. _Time_ Lords."

"Yeah," said Willow.

"As in… screw-around-with-time kinds of Time Lords," said Xander. "And Buffy only started getting sick when that Bilis Manger guy messed with her personal…"

"Yep."

Xander slumped down into a chair. "Okay," he said, "that puts getting screwed over by aliens into a whole new perspective."

Faith shot him a look. Then stepped towards Willow. "What's he so bummed about?"

"He knows what the Crystallizer does," Willow explained. "And why Buffy — and only Buffy — reacted to it."

"Why?" said Vi.

Willow ran her hands over the front of the Crystallizer. "Buffy has had her entire personal timeline rewritten over and over again," she explained, feeling the mystical power tingle across her fingers. "She started off as Elizabeth, then became the Slayer and became our Buffy, then the Powers that Be started splintering her timeline and choosing the outcome they wanted, isolating and eliminating any others."

Kennedy frowned. "Oh."

Willow tapped the Crystallizer. "My theory," she explained, "is that… this Crystallizer is reacting with Buffy because… it's doing the same thing to the Earth as the Powers that Be did to her."

"Don't get it," said Vi.

"I'm pretty sure the Crystallizer is some kind of machine that examines every single possibility of time for this world," said Willow, "all the different random possibilities for the future… and selects the one it likes. Crystallizes that possibility into reality." She shook the device. "It's not helping the aliens be stronger or anything. It's just making sure that… no matter what… they always win. Even if it's by random chance."

Faith stared. "Yeah, but… why would the Time Lords do that?"

* * *

"You're very nice to me, all of a sudden," Summers said, turning on Gardell, suddenly. "I mean, for someone who tried to poison me."

Gardell felt a little awkward. "I…"

Summers shot him a small smile. "It's okay," she assured him. "I know you didn't have anything to do with the poisoning. You seem to actually be a pretty good interrogation guy. No waterboarding or hoods or whatever."

"That wasn't us," said Gardell. "The Bureau doesn't do that."

Summers shrugged. "I bet the FBI isn't big on believing time travel stories, either. But you're doing okay with that."

"I'm… keeping an open mind." Gardell ran a hand through his hair. Then added, "Do you know why the British government wants you dead?"

Summers considered. "No idea," she said. Then, a little hesitantly, "No chance there's some _other_ evil Time Lord who survived and decided to become Prime Minister, right?"

Gardell shook his head.

"Didn't think so." She paused. Thinking it over, very seriously. "Maybe… it's the Crystallizer that actually wants me dead," she proposed. "Which is why everyone and everything keeps trying to kill me. Except it's not working. It's killing everyone around me, but… it can't actually get to _me_, for some reason."

Which must have been why Hiskaloph thought Summers was the only one who could stop this.

Because if this Crystallizer was trying to kill her, but couldn't…

"Why can't it touch you?" said Gardell. "If it killed Alison."

"I don't know." Summers shrugged. "Maybe… it's got too many mes tangled up in the timelines, and it can't figure out which one to kill."

* * *

"I have no idea," Willow admitted. "Buffy mentioned that the Doctor felt guilty about… something involving Earth's children. Something that was still in our future." She shrugged. "This must be it."

"He's not coming to save us, is he?" Vi asked.

"I think he's already here," Willow said, with a grimace. "I think… he's behind the scenes, somewhere. I mean, if someone wanted to make him do something really, _really_ evil… the best way to make him do it — would be by threatening the Earth."

"But… he'd give in to save us, right?" Vi said. She saw the looks on the faces around her, and winced. "Wouldn't he?"

Xander and Willow exchanged a look.

Didn't answer.

Didn't need to.

"So we gotta destroy this thing," Faith said, nodding at the Crystallizer. "All right. Get together our most powerful magic spells, gather our best weapons…"

"Yeah, we tried those things," Xander pointed out. Raised up his hands. "Turns out? No with the weapons and the magic!"

"The Doctor told Buffy he'd seen the future, and she didn't stop it," said Willow. "None of us stopped it. That means the only person who could stop something like this… would be a time traveler. Someone who shouldn't really be here in the first place."

"Seo and Dawn!" Kennedy cried.

"Who are conveniently not here," Faith realized. Her eyes narrowed on the Crystallizer. "Cause… I'm betting… that machine made sure anyone who could stop this was out of action before our fireball aliens showed up."

"Bingo," said Willow.

Faith gritted her teeth. "Starting to think Xander was right," she admitted. "There is absolutely no way we can win."

"Unless we get Buffy back," Xander reminded them. "I'm _sure_."

Willow hesitated.

But didn't say anything.

* * *

"Cold," said Summers, suddenly. Shivering, her teeth chattering. "It's… suddenly… gone really cold." She reached out, almost toppled over. "Oh, God. What the hell is wrong with me?"

"What?" Gardell raced towards her. Realized she was burning up — again! The same failing going on in her organs, but a different poison working its way through her system, this time. "That's… it can't be…!"

"Twice in a row?" Summers gave a weary laugh. "Figures. Alien invasion going on, but… humans… are… the ones… killing me."

Gardell called for a medical team. For help.

Assured Summers it'd be okay.

A weak smile from Summers. "I'm okay," she whispered, conspiratorially. "Slayer immune… system. Whoever… keeps trying to kill me… hasn't… realized… what a Slayer… really…"

Then she passed out.

In an instant, Gardell had a full medical team inside the room, racing to make sure Ms. Summers survived. Wheeling her away to flush the poison from her system.

"She must have reacted badly with the sodium pentothal," said the nurse, checking Summers' chart. She shot Gardell an angry glare. "I did _warn_ you FBI boys that she shouldn't be on the stuff. But you just _had_ to get your secrets, didn't you?"

Gardell was stunned. "Sodium pentothal?" He grabbed the chart from the nurse. "But I didn't order…!"

Then he paused.

Realizing.

"Someone in the Bureau wants her dead," Gardell muttered. Someone who wouldn't pay attention to nurses who advised against using certain kinds of drugs. Someone who might have administered a shot of 'sodium pentothal' that wasn't _really_ sodium pentothal.

Someone who was working for the 456.

A spy.

Gardell swung on the nurse. "Who gave her the fake 'sodium pentothal'?" he demanded.

Perhaps he'd already suspected. Somewhere deep down inside. Because it didn't come as all that big a shock when he was told the name:

"Samuel Titcher."


	15. Chapter 15

"You bastard!" Gardell spat, in his friend's face. He was barely containing himself from taking a swing at the guy, but that was impossible, as Samuel was now being held in a detention facility, behind a layer of bullet-proof glass.

Samuel met Gardell's eyes, steadily. "I did what I had to."

"You betrayed this country," Gardell retorted. "Betrayed the Bureau! Betrayed your duty to save lives!" He slammed his fist down on the table before him. "Hell, Samuel! After everything we've been through! Moment this gets out, they'll be saying the Bureau's no better than Guantanamo!"

"I said I did what I had to," Samuel repeated, calmly. "My conscience is clear."

This didn't do anything to ebb Gardell's rage.

He had other things to do, of course. Shouldn't even really be here — it wasn't his place to interrogate Samuel.

But Samuel had been his friend.

He'd trusted him.

And now, Gardell just… needed to know why.

"What did the 456 offer you?" Gardell said. "Or are you working for the limeys?"

"I'm working for the human race," Samuel replied. He leaned forwards. Whispered, "I found out. What the Brits are covering up."

Gardell stared.

"And they're right to do so," Samuel continued. "Don't you see, Jim?! The human race has to be _united_ against the 456. A single front! Otherwise, we're toast." His fists clenched. "If the Brits' secret gets out… we'll fall into squabbling and petty diplomatic rivalry. We can't afford that. Not now. Not against an alien threat!"

"And to unite the human race," Gardell hissed through his teeth, "you thought you had to murder somebody?!"

"Summers knows Harkness," Samuel said, so softly that Gardell almost didn't catch it. "I did what I had to."

Harkness?

Gardell shook his head. "What does that…?"

"It's better that she dies," Samuel cut in. "It'd be better for everyone."

"She isn't even guilty, you idiot!" Gardell snapped. Gritted his teeth, breathing hard. "Because of you, we won't be able to release or question Summers for who knows how long. Which means the media is going to find out all about this." He stood up, shooting his once-friend a withering stare. "Congratulations, Samuel. You've just made this government look both incompetent and inhumane, all in a single stroke."

Then he left.

To figure out what to do next, and how to stop the press from hearing more than they should.

* * *

"A terrorist!" Philhorn shouted into the camera. He threw up his script, the pages spilling across the studio. "Can you believe that?! The most patriotic American you've ever seen. A _terrorist_?!"

In the Slayer Institute, Amanda exchanged a look with Mindy. "I have told you I _hate_ this guy, right?"

"He's got a point," Mindy said, with a shrug.

"Only because we fed it to him," Amanda retorted.

"Where's the turban?!" shouted Philhorn. "Where's the ululation and the I-Love-Bin-Laden posters?! You think all that regulation would protect you from Al Qaida — but the government's using that to protect us against _Buffy Summers_?!"

Mindy hid her face in her hands. "Okay, you're right," she muttered. "The guy's a total biggot. And a nutcase."

Philhorn's face was red with righteous outrage. "Here's the clincher, ladies and gentlemen," he announced, sitting back down. "The reason Summers is considered to be a terrorist is because…"

A map of Britain flashed up on the screen.

"A bunch of British guys said so!" Philhorn said. "And do you know _how_ they came to that conclusion?!"

The image changed to a picture of Harold Saxon.

"Because Summers tried to stop _this man_ from assassinating our president!" Philhorn shouted.

Amanda tilted her head to the side. "Weird thing is, behind all the craziness," she reflected, "you get occasional moments of _actual_ journalism."

"Ria knew he'd get a reaction out of people," said Mindy. "Doesn't matter if half of what he says is just a bunch of lies. He makes people _feel_, and Ria needs people to feel and get angry. Otherwise, Buffy's going to get killed."

"That's right, ladies and gentlemen," Philhorn said, as the camera panned back to him. "That's right! The woman who saved _your_ children from Satanists and devil worshippers, the person who saved our public schools from terrorist attacks and biological agents we've never come across before…" Tears welled up in his eyes, "the woman who tried to save our president… and she's rewarded… by being…"

He turned away from the camera, overcome with the emotion of it all.

"I've heard there's a special kind of eye-drop they give him during the commercials," Amanda said, "to make him cry."

Philhorn turned back. Cupped his hands over his mouth. Shouted, "ARE YOU LISTENING, WASHINGTON?! BUFFY SUMMERS IS NOT A TERRORIST!"

"We did feed him the wiki-leaks thing, right?" Mindy asked. "Because if we're going to really convince people, here…"

"And it just gets worse," Philhorn continued. "We have reports from wiki-leaks, saying that the US government is, at this moment, engaged in a series of top-secret negotiations, regarding this incident with the children… that are taking place… in _England_!"

"I guess that's a yes," said Amanda.

"That's right!" Philhorn said. "In England!" He pounded his fist against his desk. "_That's_ why we're bending over backwards to do whatever they want! _That's_ why we're imprisoning our American heroes — to appease a bunch of limey bastards who think that _they_ are the ones best equipped to deal with the unexplained." He pounded his fist again. "Last time we negotiated with these tea-drinking scumbags, they murdered our president." He glared at the camera. "Who's it gonna be next, Britain?! I'll tell you who! First, they killed our president, then they went after American heroes like Buffy Summers, and next… _they're coming for_ _our children_!"

Mindy grimaced. "Well… it's definitely reaction-provoking. If nothing else."

"Well… I'VE HAD IT!" Philhorn screamed at the camera.

He then leapt to his feet. Threw his arms open, in a dramatic gesture. His eyes full of tears, and his face red with anger.

"I say, if Buffy Summers is a terrorist," shouted Philhorn, "then _I'm_ a terrorist!"

Mindy and Amanda exchanged a look.

"So go on, America!" Philhorn challenged. "Arrest me!"

* * *

Gardell hadn't seen Philhorn's broadcast.

He was too busy worrying about the 456, figuring out what intelligence he could glean from the recorded interrogations of Summers and Hiskaloph, and tracing down Samuel's data-trail…

Which had allowed Gardell to work out the secret that Samuel had discovered.

The secret the 456 revealed, as well, soon enough.

The 456 had been to Earth, before. London, in 1965. They'd taken 12 children, back then. Children who'd been selected and led to their dooms… by none other than Jack Harkness.

Leader of Torchwood Cardiff.

_That_ had been the reason Torchwood was destroyed. Not to aid the 456. Not because Frobisher was in league with the aliens. Not because there was someone behind the scenes manipulating everything.

No.

"It's… all a coincidence," Gardell realized. Shaking his head. "A great big coincidence. No one in the British government was working for the 456. They only blew up Torchwood to get Harkness! The Brits aren't in league with the aliens; they were just… trying to cover up…!"

Too many coincidences.

Except they couldn't all be coincidences, could they? They had to be deliberate!

It was only later that Gardell was told what had happened that day, in London, with the negotiations with the 456. And just what it was that the 456 were demanding of Earth.

10% of the world's children.

Reynolds burst into Gardell's office, shortly after Gardell had found out about the 456's terms. Gardell was busy scribbling down notes, as he replayed one of his interrogations with Summers.

"There's been a development," Reynolds said. "It's—"

"I already know," Gardell dismissed, waving him off. "10% of Earth's children, unless we can stop them. I'm working on that second part."

"No, Jim," said Reynolds. "It's… Philhorn."

Gardell paused. Looked up.

"He's… stirred up everyone in this country into a frenzy," Reynolds admitted. "Across the States, thousands of people… they've just stopped working. A wave of sit-down strikes. They want us to arrest them for terrorism!"

"What?!" Gardell cried. He spun to his computer, immediately pulled up a browser, and typed in an American news channel URL. Sure enough, there it was.

_Sit-Down Protests Demand Release of Summers._

All across the United States, people who'd listened to Philhorn on the radio, or watched him on TV… they had all stopped working. Had all sat down on the floor, their hands raised, and said the same thing:

"If Buffy Summers is a terrorist, then I'm a terrorist."

Gardell buried his face in his hands. With Samuel and the aliens and everything else… this was _the last thing _he needed.

"I assume the Director wants to see me?" Gardell muttered.

Reynolds shot Gardell a pointed look. "A group of aliens wielding technology so sophisticated it looks like magic," he said, "have just landed on Earth and demanded 10% of our children."

Gardell swallowed.

As Reynolds crossed his arms.

"No, Jim," said Reynolds. "The Director _doesn't care_ about Buffy Summers. Amazingly enough, he has other things to worry about."

That was Gardell told.

"But he wants you to know that if you don't fix this public relations problem," said Reynolds, heading out the door, "you shouldn't bother coming in to work tomorrow."

Gardell watched Reynolds leave.

Then put on his coat.

And went to the hospital.

* * *

"We're keeping her for overnight observation," the nurse snapped, when Gardell enquired. "The last time we let you boys in to see her, she was nearly killed." Then the nurse's voice lowered, dangerously, and added, "And considering what she did for us, overseas, against Saxon…!" Shook her head. "You have some nerve."

Gardell decided he probably deserved that reprimand.

He had been the one to trust Samuel, after all. Grant him full access to Summers.

"I'm here to release her, actually," said Gardell. "When she's ready."

The nurse shot him a look that said, 'you better, buster, or I'm going to the press with this.' Then scurried off.

In only a day, the Bureau had gone from being respected to being despised by the American public. What a time for this to happen! What a time for America to lose faith in its government!

Gardell waited through the night.

First chance he got, he was going to make sure Summers was free and packed off to Cleveland.

Didn't matter what she knew. What she could tell him.

They'd already blown their chance to get her on their side.


	16. Day 4

Author's Note: Points to anyone who can name the Big Finish audioplay where the Crystallizer was mentioned, previously!

Enjoy!

* * *

Day 4.

* * *

Buffy Summers was somewhat amazed when she was released — free of all charges, and under no suspicion of terrorism whatsoever.

More amazed because Gardell had arrived at the hospital to make a personal apology, with already-hired transportation back to Cleveland.

"So that's it?" said Buffy, in the limo on the way to the airport. "I'm free to go, no questions asked?" She looked around herself, then, leaning in, conspiratorially, "Isn't that Mr. Furby guy going to be really pissed off that I'm not dead?"

"Mr. Frobisher and the English government," Gardell replied, "have forfeited their rights to negotiations with the 456. After the truth about 1965 came out."

He dropped the information casually, as if he hadn't noticed what he was saying. But Buffy could tell.

Every word was intentional.

Whatever had happened while she was under lock-and-key, it made this Gardell guy trust her. Like, seriously trust her.

"I'm sure Mr. Harkness already told you about that," Gardell added, raising his eyebrows.

"What?" Buffy then corrected herself almost immediately, and planted a smile on her face. "Oh, yeah! He's… kept me filled in."

So… Jack had something to do with this?

Huh.

Buffy guessed that explained why Torchwood had been destroyed. Jack knew something the British government wanted covered up, which had led to the government gunning down anyone Jack might have confided in.

Thank God Seo hadn't been here!

Alison… hadn't been so lucky.

Poor Alison.

"So what about Ria?" Buffy asked. "I mean, is she waiting at the airport, or something, or…?"

Gardell cleared his throat, and adjusted his tie. Looking extremely uncomfortable. "Ria Hiskaloph… has not been set free." After a pause, he added, "She's been transferred to the military to be held under the provisions of the Patriot Act."

Buffy stared, jaw falling open. "But… but…!" She shook her head. "Why?! I mean, if _I'm_ not a terrorist…"

Gardell paused. For a few moments, it looked like he wasn't going to answer.

Then, in a very low voice, "They say… Hiskaloph sent the country into a panic in a time of national emergency. On purpose. Her actions have endangered national security, and might lead to anarchy."

Whoa.

Whoa! What the…?!

"It's a conspiracy!" said Buffy. "She was framed! I know Ria, she'd never have…"

"She confessed to it herself," Gardell replied. "Voluntarily. She…" He lowered his voice. "She did it to secure your release."

"She did… what?!"

Gardell met her eyes with his. "You'll find out, soon enough."

And as Buffy looked into his eyes, she realized she _didn't_ feel angry at him for this. How could she? It wasn't his fault. He clearly felt just as upset about it as she did.

Obviously, the order had come from above him.

And Gardell was powerless to stop it.

Buffy gave him a smile. Put a hand on his arm. "Thanks," she said. "Just… for caring. Not doing the torture thing — not intentionally. And thanks, because… when you knew I wasn't guilty, you were nice to me."

Gardell didn't answer. His face hid all reaction perfectly.

But there was just a hint of something in his eyes that told Buffy he was grateful.

The limo pulled up to the airport, and a group of security men in black suits were standing there, prepared to escort Buffy to her private jet. Weirder still, there were a _ton_ of camera people and press people, standing around, all looking excited.

Buffy had no idea what _that_ was about.

She scooted her way over to the door to the limo. "Just… promise me you'll do what you can," Buffy told Gardell. "For Ria. She's really not a terrorist."

Buffy reached for the door handle.

Gardell grabbed up her wrist before she could reach it. Leaned in, and whispered, "10% of Earth's children."

Buffy glanced over at him, but he was already opening the door and ushering her outside. As if their momentary communication had just been an accidental closeness in his gallantry to open the door.

And then Buffy was engulfed by frantic reporters, flashes going off in her face, and a bunch of people screaming at her to save them. An overwhelming flood of noise and sound and… admiration?! Geeze, Buffy had really misjudged the US reaction to terrorists.

But even as the bodyguards led her to the plane, even as she was bathed in celebrity and paparazzi, even as she tried to avoid questions she didn't quite get… Buffy couldn't help but remember…

_She did it to secure your release_.

Buffy didn't know what that meant. But as the plane took off, Buffy whispered a promise.

"I'll get you out, Ria. One way or another."

* * *

While Buffy was in the air, the children across the United States stopped.

Yet again.

And began to chant, "2, 3, 4, 0, 0, 0, 0."

2,340,000. The figure that accounted for ten percent of American children. The 456's demand.

* * *

The moment Buffy re-entered the Slayer Institution, everyone had gathered around. And applauded her as she walked through the doors.

All her friends swept forwards and hugged her. All the Slayers that had known her, back from when she was running the Institution, came over and high-fived her. People were vastly pleased to see her, and also vastly pleased with themselves.

Because they all knew… _they_, carrying out Ria's plan, had been the ones to save her life.

Willow stayed in the background, just a little longer than the others. Didn't come up to Buffy when she first arrived, didn't offer hugs or draw any attention to herself.

She just watched.

"Where's Ria?" Mindy asked, looking around.

Buffy paused. A look of utter guilt washing across her face.

"She's toast, isn't she?" Faith said. A look of utter fury passed across Faith's face, and she punched the wall so hard she tore up the dry-wall. "Damn it! What the hell kind of martyr does she think she is?!"

"What… what happened out here?" Buffy asked. Hand to her head. "Gardell… said…"

Xander explained it.

Ria's plan.

And Buffy seemed to grow more and more horrified as she heard every detail. As she realized… what Ria had done to make sure Buffy got out of there.

"But why _me_?" Buffy protested. "Ria's got a baby! A future! A husband! While I'm some idiot with a mysterious illness that's killing me anyways. Why…?"

Willow stepped forwards, then.

And Buffy's eyes fell on the Crystallizer in Willow's hands.

"The Quantum Crystallizer," Buffy breathed. "That's why. She knew… I was connected to it. Somehow."

"Quantum Crystallizer?" Willow said. "You… said it was just… 'the Crystallizer', before."

Buffy brushed it off, as she darted forwards. "Yeah, short for Quantum Crystallizer. It's Time Lord technology." She took it from Willow, examining it in her hands. "It splinters the timelines over a certain area. And lets the possibilities play out — until it gets one that it likes. One that coincides with what its programmers decided was 'good', or 'what they want to happen'. Then it fixes the favored timeline, and lets the others die off."

"Yeah, we'd kind of figured that one out, already," said Xander.

Willow was looking at Buffy funny. "Buffy… how'd you know all this stuff about the Crystallizer?"

Buffy didn't answer. Her eyes still on the Crystallizer, a small smile on her face, as her mind tried to work it all out.

"Did… the Doctor tell you?" Willow offered, nervously.

Buffy ignored her. Eyes suddenly lighting up. "1965!" she shouted. Spun around. "Okay. Anyone? 1965? That's what Gardell said. Something involving Jack, the 456, and 1965."

"What are the 456?" said Amanda.

"The aliens, of course!" Buffy said. "The ones making the children speak in unison. The children said they were coming _back_, Gardell said Jack knew they'd been around in 1965, and Alison said these guys would _keep_ coming back, over and over again!"

"To do what?" said Faith.

"To take our kids," Buffy replied. Waved the Crystallizer at her. "Last thing Gardell told me. The demands of the 456." Her voice dropped, so Faith could barely hear it. "10% of Earth's children."

A hush fell over the Slayers.

"And this thing," said Buffy, raising up the Crystallizer, "is rewriting time. To make sure the 456 get them."

For a few seconds, no one said a word.

"It's not going to stop, is it?" Kennedy realized. "This is a hit job. The 456 take a few kids by threatening all of them. And when we give them the kids, the 456 just come back later and take a few more, until…"

"No more human race?" Mindy guessed.

Buffy shook her head. "Until they demand 2/3 of the children," she said. "Just like the Doctor told me. He said that was where the Time Lords stopped." Her eyes narrowed. "Two-thirds… of what's left. After they've come back, over and over again."

It ran through all their minds.

A world completely depopulated. A world in which children had been snatched in every generation, more and more until…

"So we fight back!" Amanda cried. She brandished her Flaming Sword. "We have to!"

The moment she did so, the Quantum Crystallizer beeped. Whirred.

And Amanda's Flaming Sword… suddenly snuffed itself out. For no reason. Extinguished and powerless in a single instant.

"See?" said Buffy, pointedly. Coming over to Amanda. "That's what we're up against. Not an enemy. Not the 456." Her eyes narrowed. "We're fighting against time itself. Against coincidence and fate and destiny. Anyone who defies the Quantum Crystallizer will be put out of action. No matter how improbable it is to do so."

"And if someone actually got to the point where they were about to stop these guys…?" Faith started.

Buffy shrugged. "Heart attack? Sudden serious illness? Asteroid falling from the sky and squashing them for no reason? Take your pick."

So that was why… the Doctor had said that Buffy couldn't stop this. Because nobody could stop it. The only thing they'd do is kill themselves and the people around them.

"We can't go against the Crystallizer," Buffy declared to the Slayers around her. "The only way to beat it… is to play its game."

"But it's game is to make the 456 win," said Faith.

Buffy grinned, widely. "No, it's not!" she realized. Turned, and raced off. "It's to make the human race lose!"

Willow immediately belted after her, but Buffy was too fast.

Had already locked herself inside a lab before Willow could get close.

"Buffy!" Willow shouted. Hammering on the door. "Buffy! What are you doing?! Buffy, let me in!"

"Whoa, whoa, calm down, Will," Xander said, easing her away. "Let the Buffster do her work."

Willow went quiet.

Her eyes fixed on the door.

"I don't trust her," Willow admitted. Hands clenched. "Not one inch."

Xander shot her a look. Then… unsure what else to do… laughed. Uneasily. "Come on!" he said. "I mean, she's Buffy."

And led Willow away.

Willow couldn't help but look back over her shoulder. Muttered, under her breath, "If you say so."


	17. Chapter 17

Author's Note: Yay! Someone won my points by looking the answer up on wikipedia! (Maybe it's kind of cheating, but oh well! Points still given, because I'm so nice!)

Yep, the Quantum Crystallizer was last used by the Time Lords against the Cybermen. The Doctor mentions it's a very Time Lordish weapon, because it's a gun you don't have to shoot - hence, plausible deniability. So even though it technically contradicted non-intervention policy, no one got the blame, because no one technically "pulled the trigger", so to speak.

You gotta love Time Lord red tape!

Anyways...

Up here in Tahoe, things are not going so well. We're going off and buying air conditioners for units, because apparently, due to a design flaw in the building, the rooms are getting way too hot and people are asking for their money back (and getting it; we're not mean or anything!). I guess when this hotel was built, people didn't know about global warming. Or maybe they did and didn't care. But we're getting air conditioning installed next week, hopefully, to basically every unit except mine.

Whatever.

I'm more annoyed about the management decision which I objected to, but was outvoted on, which led to the destruction of one of our rooms. It had been remodeled 2 months before; someone else let in a guest I said they shouldn't, and as a result, the room is worthless - people say it's overpriced at $100 a night, and considering most people charge about twice that, it's saying something.

So I cheered myself up by reading some stories I wrote in which Seo says something intelligent and correct and absolutely right on the dot, and then everyone dismisses HER, on the basis that "you're too young, you don't know." That made me laugh, because she's funny and it's exactly what I go through all the time.

Art reflects life.

So... yes! That's the update from Tahoe. On the plus side, it did rain buckets up here. Maybe that'll help with the drought...

Enjoy!

* * *

Gardell had been in his office when they arrived.

A group of army-guys, all heavily armed and sporting determined looks on their faces. The blond one stepped forwards, glared into Gardell's eyes.

"Riley Finn," he said. "Special Forces, US Military." His voice grew angry. "Where is Buffy Summers?"

Gardell sighed. "Released. You happy?"

The army-guys all seemed a little shocked at the news. Finn stepped away, his anger melting in an instant.

"Thanks," said the woman beside Finn. With a friendly smile at Gardell. "We appreciate it."

That was when Gardell placed these troops. Realized who they were and where they'd been. What they'd been doing.

"You must be the Special Forces group that deals with the supernatural," he recalled. "The one Hiskaloph kept talking about." Gardell inspected them, carefully. "Why aren't you in London right now?"

"We _were_ in Antarctica," said one of the group. "The first moment we regained radio contact, they called us back here."

"To sell this country's children out to a bunch of aliens," the woman snapped. Her eyes dark. "I hope you're happy with yourselves."

Gardell hadn't heard about that one.

Not at all.

"Sell out?" Gardell asked.

Which was when Gardell learned — from the woman, Sam Finn — that the US had pulled in all its military might… to gather up its nation's children. Tear them away from their parents. And ship them out to collection areas, for the 456.

Gardell was utterly and completely speechless.

"Interesting," said Riley Finn. "I don't think he knew that."

"But… but… why?" Gardell demanded. "We've got firepower! We can blast these guys out of the sky—"

"They're not _in_ the sky," Sam cut in. "Trust me. We've checked."

Which was when Gardell discovered that… anyone protesting the action… was at risk of losing their own children to the 456. That was how the US government was keeping the military in line.

"Buffy will find some way to defeat the aliens," said Riley Finn. "I know she will. We just have to find her, and hear her plan."

And that was when Gardell finally understood.

Exactly what he had to do.

He got up from his desk. And turned to head out of the room. "Leave it to me," he said. "I think it's time… I got myself fired."

* * *

Amanda skittered into the room, grabbed up the remote, and turned on the TV.

It blazed into life, then focused on a press conference.

James T. Gardell stood at the podium.

"Gardell," Xander repeated, reading the name at the bottom of the screen. "Buffy mentioned him."

"Listen!" Amanda hissed.

On the TV, Gardell was saying, "…placing the safety of _your_ children in our hands. We understand how difficult this is, particularly when it's clear some terrorist biological agent has been making the children speak in unison." He cleared his throat. "That is why the United States has created a special committee to deal with this problem. A committee whose chair will work directly beneath the President, to command the armed forces who will defeat this terrorist threat."

"Terrorist?" Faith scoffed. "Why not say 'alien'? We all know it!"

"And the chairman of this committee will be none other," Gardell declared, "than Buffy Anne Summers. American hero."

Everyone stared, open-mouthed.

Then turned to Willow, who'd been able to hack into some basic government information. And just shrugged at them.

"Don't look at me," Willow said. "The US government seems just as surprised as everyone else."

"They're… they're not actually planning to hand over our kids… to…?" Vi put in, hesitantly.

Willow got up, putting aside her computer. "You know they are." Then she headed off to the locked lab. "I'm getting Buffy. She needs to hear about this."

* * *

It was when Willow knocked on the door to the lab where Buffy was working that the Crystallizer began to blink and buzz and hum rapidly. As it frantically sought to find a timeline it liked.

And it settled on one.

Chose that timeline, let it play out.

In England, Torchwood had finally made its move. Jack and Ianto burst into Thames House, guns drawn. Firing at the 456 ambassador.

Their bullets had no effect.

The Crystallizer had selected what it needed. Torchwood was a threat because Jack was a threat. Get rid of Ianto, and Jack would be heartbroken. Devastated. He would not be able to continue to go against the Crystallizer's basic programming.

And so, in England, Thames House was flooded with a deadly gas.

Everyone inside died.

Including Ianto Jones.

* * *

Back in the United States, Buffy reacted violently to the Crystallizer.

Doubling up, her head searing with pain.

And then, in an instant, she was fine. Completely fine. As if nothing had happened. She went to the door, opened it. Stepped outside, shutting it behind her before Willow could enter or snoop around.

Willow told Buffy about the press conference.

And what Gardell had said.

A smile touched Buffy's face. As she realized… whatever the Crystallizer was worried about… whatever had made it blink and flash… it wasn't anything to do with _her_. It had been distracted with something else. Which meant, Buffy had finally gotten a bit of good luck.

"I'm holding a press conference, too," Buffy decided. Racing forwards. "I'm too busy with my work, here, to help the military. But there's someone else already in Washington. Someone I promised I'd get out."

Willow blinked. "You mean…?"

"Ria," Buffy agreed, zipping around a corner. "Exactly!"

* * *

Gardell was busy packing up his stuff. Figured it was only a matter of time, now, before he was officially relieved of his job. Or arrested.

He didn't really know, anymore.

Had always done what he thought was right. But if the government was about to hand over American children to a bunch of alien monsters…

Then what _was_ right?

The door slammed open, and the Director walked in. "Gardell, you—!" The Director stopped. Noticed the cardboard box. "What are you doing?"

Gardell wasn't sure how to answer. "I figured… I was fired."

"Fired?!" the Director cried. He gave Gardell a huge grin. "Because of your press conference? You're joking!"

Gardell was now completely stumped.

"Greatest idea ever," the Director applauded him. "We've been sweating how to make the American people swallow the disappearance of 10% of their children, and you've just given us the solution. In one short press conference, you've inspired the American people to give up their children, in order to save themselves from something far worse."

Gardell's throat went dry. "I… didn't…"

"It's ingenious!" the Director continued. "I mean… Summers. They all trust her! She's not government, so when everything falls apart and the kids don't come back — perfect fall-guy. Plus, at that point, we can say that we were _right _to keep her incarcerated for terrorism. Restore our credibility."

"I… see," said Gardell, softly. He turned back to the cardboard box. His eyes fixed on the items he'd emptied from the office. Including the photo of his 10-year-old boy. His Tommy.

Slowly, Gardell pulled a leather wallet out of his pocket.

"Perfect plan," the Director said. "Absolutely…!" Then stopped.

As Gardell placed his leather FBI badge on the table between them.

"In that case," said Gardell, "I resign."

* * *

If Ria was surprised she'd been released from prison — and placed, by order of Buffy's press conference, in charge of gathering up 10% of American children to feed to the 456 — she kept a perfect poker-face. Just letting the information wash over her, with a calm kind of collectedness.

But her eyes looked grave, as she absorbed the situation.

"Get me the phone," Ria demanded. "I need to speak to my people in Cleveland. Whatever they've discovered, there… it could help save us all."

* * *

The news from Cleveland was worse than Ria could possibly imagine.

She had to take a few minutes to let the reality of the situation sink in. What she'd learned about the Quantum Crystallizer. What she'd discovered it would do. What she'd seen it do, with Alison Korjensky, with Ianto Jones, with all the people in Thames House the precise moment Torchwood had decided to take action.

"The Crystallizer will always find a way to stop you fighting back," Willow told her, over the phone. "No matter how improbable it is to do so. It'll put you in impossible situations, put your friends and family in peril, or just kill you flat out."

Ria was silent for a long time.

A very long time.

Processing all of this.

Then, at last, she said, "This… Quantum Crystallizer. It's what's making Buffy sick?"

"Yes," said Willow.

"And when Buffy left Earth… she wasn't sick anymore?" said Ria. "That Crystallizer couldn't reach her. It was out of range."

"That's right."

"Just like… wherever the 456 want to send our kids is out of range."

Willow paused. "I… guess."

Ria smiled. "Thanks," she said. "I've got a plan."

Then hung up the phone. Turned back to the Special Forces, the Pentagon Officials, all the people she was now in charge of.

All the people she needed to help, to protect the children of her country.

"You found some way to fight them?" Riley Finn asked.

Ria shook her head. Gestured at the Pentagon Officials. "They're right," she admitted. "And so's General Pierce. There is no possible way we can avoid giving these aliens 10% of Earth's children." She stepped forwards. "But _we_ get to decide _which_ ten percent. That's our advantage."

"We've drawn up a plan," one of the Pentagon officials offered, handing Ria a map filled with circles and notes. "The poorest districts, the children who won't amount to much. We're…"

Ria tossed the map aside. "No," she said. "That'd be useless. We're not giving the 456 _those_ kids."

"Then what…?" another official began.

Ria crossed her arms. "We're giving them _ours_."


	18. Chapter 18

Author's Note: Sorry about the posting delay. We got really busy at the hotel, and then all of Lake Tahoe blacked out! So I was a little unable to post, as a result.

But here's the post!

Enjoy!

* * *

Ria's plan was simple.

Yet beautiful.

"We can't beat the 456 while we're on Earth," Ria explained to the Finns, as they were packing up different high-tech weapons systems. "So we don't just give them the lower-class kids. We also give them the kids of anyone who's willing to fight back. Anyone out there who knows about aliens and demons and the supernatural, or anyone who understands that all the kids are ultimately at risk, and is willing to stand up and fight to defend their children."

"But… these are _our_ children!" Sam Finn protested. "You can't make us put them at…!"

Ria spun on her. "The _kids_ will be fine." Her eyes glimmered. "Because _we're_ coming with them." Tossed Sam a gun. "They want ten percent of American children? Then they'll have to get through 20% of America's parents. And we'll make sure those parents are well armed."

A lot of people were still hesitant, of course.

It became pretty clear that, when the negotiations had started with the 456, they'd been started under the assumption that anyone involved in the affair would have their children spared.

Ria shook them to the core.

By demanding _their_ sacrifice.

"Our ownchildren are off-limits!" snapped General Pierce, over a video linkup. His face was red with rage. "That was established back at the beginning of the deliberations about this. _You_ wouldn't sacrifice _your_ kids!"

Ria met his eyes with her own. "My Chris is coming, too," she said. And it was only through sheer willpower that she managed to stop her voice from shaking, as she said it. "I can't ask others to take a risk I wouldn't take myself."

General Pierce shook a finger at her. "Now look here," he hissed. "You have no rank. No standing in the government. You're a terrorist who's usurped…!"

"No, I'm the person you're trying to use as a scapegoat," Ria pointed out. "The one you'll shove under the bus after this whole thing's over, and the children don't come back. The one you'll use to show you were right… I _was_ a terrorist, along with Buffy, and you _should _have imprisoned us."

Pierce was silent.

"But what happens," Ria continued, "when the children _do_ come back?" She smiled. "What happens when I win?"

"You won't," said Pierce. "They're not coming back. Don't delude yourself." His voice lowered. "And if you take my children, Hiskaloph, I will make it my personal mission to see you executed as a traitor to this country."

"I'm sure Philhorn would be very interested in hearing about that," Ria mused. "Come to think of it… I'm sure Philhorn would be fascinated to discover that you and the other world leaders are about to sacrifice 10% of Earth's children to a group of alien monsters — on the condition that yours, personally, are okay."

"Is that a threat?" General Pierce shouted.

Ria didn't back off.

She knew what she had to do.

"I'm not risking any children's lives," Ria said, calmly. "Whatever child I take to the 456 will be returned. That is my pledge."

It wasn't until later, when Graham took Ria aside… that he pointed out what she _hadn't_ pledged.

"Just the children?" Graham said. "You… didn't mention any of the parents. You're not guaranteeing _their_ safety."

Ria's eyes grew sad.

Because she knew… she couldn't.

"People are going to die in this battle," Ria admitted. "Maybe all of us. I don't know." She gathered up her courage, her determination. "But the children will be all right. They _will_ come back."

Riley and Sam Finn believed her.

"Buffy has a plan," Riley decided. "She's got to. Whatever it is, Ria knows about it, and Ria's depending on Buffy to pull it off. That _has_ to be the answer."

Sam held his hand in her own. "Should we… with our own…?"

They met one another's eyes.

And made the hardest decision they'd ever made before.

Riley and Sam Finn decided… to sign their own children up for the 456. And join Ria's fight.

"We might be condemning them to grow up without us," said Riley.

"I'd rather that," Sam replied, "than make them grow up in a world destroyed by alien monsters."

* * *

As the sun set, the army scattered across the country. Ria coming with them.

Speaking out to the American people. Spreading a message of hope.

Of unity.

Of fighting back.

"Yes, that's right, Mitch; I'm working on behalf of Buffy Summers," Ria said, on TV. She raised up a small pill, to show the camera. "This is the solution to all our problems. This little pill, right here. Get the children to take this, and they'll never have any issues with terrorist problems, anymore." She lowered the pill. "But that's not enough. They're bent on taking our children. They'll ransack our homes and snatch our children away in the night, if we don't stop them. So the US is fighting back. And we need all the parents to fight back, with us."

"Are you asking parents to put their kids in danger?" Philhorn demanded.

"The kids are already _in_ danger," Ria argued. "If parents bring their kids out, and accompany the military to the corrected designated areas — it's the only way we'll be able to save them. Summers says so, and I agree."

She got Buffy to call in at exactly the right moments. Give some sound-bites supporting Ria.

Buffy sounded distracted.

Like she didn't quite know what she was saying.

But the people trusted Buffy. They'd seen the evidence of her protecting kids, before.

Ria, in the meantime, moved on from her TV appearance. Began to speak all across the country. Appealing to people at a personal level. People she thought could help her fight back.

"Are you really going to sit back and do nothing?" Ria told a Michigan Militia Group. "Sit back and pretend you don't hear when they come for your neighbor's children? Your nieces and nephews?" She threw out her hands. "That's what happened before! They came for children in 1965, and they were appeased. But that didn't stop them. They came back for more. And they'll keep coming back, until every last child is taken." She stepped forwards. "Can you afford to be passive? Can any of us afford to wait and watch and not care while the human race is slaughtered?!"

They came.

Despite what everyone had assumed, despite what the government had written off, beforehand, as Ria's ultimate failure… Ria was recruiting an army.

An army willing to fight rather than give up their children.

"I can't guarantee that you'll make it out of this alive," Ria told an NRA meeting in Nevada. "But I can guarantee this: if you sign up with us, your children will be safe. No matter what." She looked them all in the eye. "_They will be safe_. And they'll make it back to a home we've saved. To a country and planet that is _better_, because we have made it better! If you don't sign up with us… I can't make that guarantee."

She had always been able to sway a crowd.

It was how she'd united the Slayers. And it was how she managed to make her plan work.

"Are we going to let them scare us into handing over our nation's future?!" Ria demanded of a local UFO group in South Florida. "Are we going to give in to our fear?" She pounded her fist on the podium. "We are human! We care about others. We care about _our world_!" She leaned into the microphone. "And we're not going to let them claim _one single child_ from this planet's surface!"

It was a hard sell.

And Ria had very little time.

The collection time for the children was the next daybreak. And Ria needed enough time to coordinate the attack, itself — after she'd gotten the people to make it possible.

The Pentagon Officials scoffed.

But Ria was Ria.

And while it was impossible to make that many people volunteer their children by midnight, Eastern Standard Time, Ria had gotten enough well-armed volunteers in the group… that her plan might work.

Hopefully.


	19. Day 5

Day 5.

* * *

Ria stopped by Cleveland.

To gather up her husband and her baby boy.

Along with all the Slayers she could manage. Anyone who would fight with her, against the 456. Any volunteer willing to go.

"I don't know if the 456's beam will pick you up," Ria told her Slayers. "It might just lock onto the children's DNA. Which means… only the parents would get picked up. But…" She smiled at them. "There's always a chance."

The Slayers all raised up their Flaming Swords in support.

"Won't come to that, anyways," said Faith. Brandishing a very large alien gun. "B's got a plan. Tween her and you… we're good."

Ria nodded. "Of course we are."

Willow intercepted her. Eyes uneasy. Shifting, nervously. "You… you're sure this plan's going to work, right?" She leaned in, a little closer. Whispered, "You're positive?"

"Yes," said Ria. "No doubts. No second guesses. This plan _will_ work." She put a hand on Willow's shoulder. "Trust me. I always win."

Then she turned to Xander.

And handed him a camcorder.

"Stay here," Ria said, very softly. "You're a survivor, Xander. I know you'll keep yourself alive, no matter what." Looked around, pulling Xander away from the others. Then hissed through her teeth, "And make sure this recording winds up in the right hands. It's our only hope."

Then she was gone.

And Xander looked down at the camcorder. Realizing… all Ria's self-confidence… was just an act.

He was her backup plan.

* * *

Ria distributed the respirators and the cups of water mixed with a mystery ingredient to the group, as they drove out to the collection site. It was too early, of course, but that was part of Ria's plan. Get there early. Make sure everything's set. Make sure everyone's prepared.

"What if the Crystallizer tries to stop this?" Vi asked, nervously.

"It won't," Ria replied. "It's programmed to make sure 10% of Earth's children are taken from this planet. I'm giving it what it wants." She shrugged. "I'm just throwing in a few extra Earthlings while I'm at it."

"But what if it will _only_ take 10%?" said Vi. "What if it won't accept any extras?"

Ria didn't answer this.

Just went back through the bus, making sure that everyone was properly accounted for.

"Make sure all the kids drink the whole cup," Ria announced, handing one of the children another cup of her 'miracle elixir', after theirs spilled. "It's their ticket home, and their only hope of getting through this. If they don't take my elixir, I can't vouch for their safety."

* * *

Xander played back Ria's recording.

Watched as the recording showed Ria — not as he'd just seen her, not confident and determined. Just… tired.

And so desperately scared.

"Hey, Dawn," said Ria, with a small smile. "I'm guessing you've run into Xander, by now. And he's told you to watch this. Or… that this is Xander, watching this to figure out what's on it. Pretty typical, Xander."

Caught out.

Damn.

"Right now, Dawn and Xander, I'm heading off to meet the 456," Ria said. "And… well… after that, I'll probably be dead." She paused. Then cleared her throat. "I've decided to appoint Xander to become president in my place."

Xander felt his jaw drop.

A sick feeling springing up in his chest.

"Dead?!" Xander shouted at Ria's recording. "President?! What...?!"

"I've got all the paperwork filled out and stored in my office," said Ria. "Not that you'll need paperwork, if this whole thing blows up and the world is… just…"

There was a look in her eyes.

Like she could see a world where everything had been destroyed and thrown into anarchy.

And couldn't get the image out of her head.

"Thing is, Xander, whatever the world's like after today," Ria continued, "there'll still be Slayers in it. And there'll still be demons, aliens, and forces of darkness to be fought. That's your job, Xander, and I know you'll be good at it. The Slayers listen to you, and you listen to them. And you're the best person I can think of to oversee the Institute in a post-apocalyptic…"

She stopped.

Sighed.

"…I mean, in whatever condition the world winds up in."

Ria slumped a little. A wave of emotions running through her.

"Dawn," she said, at last. "Oh, Dawn. Where would I be without you? Dead a thousand times over. I could never repay you for everything you've done for me — although I'm hoping that saving your sister at least makes us closer to even."

How things had changed since the days of Sunnydale.

Back then, everyone had protected Dawn for Buffy's sake. Now… Ria had protected Buffy for Dawn's sake.

"While you and Seo were away, Dawn, these… aliens came," Ria explained. "They called themselves the 456. Just your standard alien bullies, scaring the world into acquiescing to all their demands. Except…" she hesitated. "Except this time, it's more than that. There's something out there called a… 'Quantum Crystallizer'. It's what's been making Buffy sick…" She waved her hand, as if brushing the issue aside. "I'm sure Xander will explain the whole thing to you, when you get this recording."

That was an explanation Xander was not looking forward to making.

"But it means we can't fight the 456 and win," said Ria. "At least… not while we're on Earth. But then I remembered… Buffy wasn't sick when she left Earth. The Crystallizer has a range. And I'm getting out of it."

A very Ria plan.

"The gist of this whole thing is… I'm heading off to another planet, to fight the 456," said Ria. "And I've brought along an army. Angry parents. Some of them know we're fighting aliens. A lot think we're fighting Al Qaida." She gave a wry smile. "Imagine their surprise when we turn up on an alien world."

Yeah.

Barrel of laughs.

"It would have been a good plan," said Ria. "The 456 seem to be fighting back using viruses and things, not physical violence. Which, given their level of technology, seems odd. Why not storm the planet and take the kids with brute force?" She shrugged. "I don't think the 456 have an army, Dawn. In fact, I don't think there are all that many of the 456. They're probably not even a race — just a group. A thug group. Which gives us an advantage. If I can bring an army wherever they take us, we can overpower them. Defeat them."

Xander hesitated. "Uh… biological warfare stuff, Ria?" he reminded her. "Remember that?"

"And I'm not concerned about biological agents," Ria continued, on the recording. "When we appear wherever they take us, they won't be able to use a virus to wipe out the adults. After all, we're with the kids. And any virus that wipes _us_ out will also kill them." She gave a faint smile. "The 456 _want_ the kids. So they'll have to be hands-on. They'll have to come and take the kids from their parents — and no parent would ever let that happen."

Made sense to Xander.

"So that was my plan." Ria's face fell. "But… I didn't have enough time to get the numbers the 456 needed. The military's going to have to make up the rest by dragging kids away. Large amounts of the country still believe that the kids are just being given medicine to stop them talking in unison. A whole bunch of parents are completely ignorant of the real ramifications. And many aren't coming at all. The only way to gather up that many kids in that short a time is by using force, and…"

She trailed off.

Looking into the distance.

Xander knew who'd get the blame for all this, at the end of the day. Ria had been set up by the government to take the fall.

And she knew it.

"Which means I'm showing up on an alien world with a fraction of an army," Ria concluded. "Most of whom have no idea what's going on. And will freak the moment they arrive. I don't know what the 456 have waiting for us at the other end. Don't know their level of technology, or what they might do to us when they see us. If my Slayers come, too, maybe there's a chance. But otherwise…"

Worry etched her face.

And Xander could see every confident façade she'd put on falling away, as she admitted her own futility.

"The more I think this through, the more holes I see in my plan," said Ria. She ran a hand through her hair. "There are too many ways this could all go wrong. And too few ways in which it could go right. So… chances are… by the time you get this message, Dawn, I'll be dead. And so will every other adult I've got with me."

Her face was somber, her eyes filled with utter terror.

This was Ria unguarded.

A Ria that Xander had never seen before.

Then Ria took a long, deep breath. "But I'll promise you this," she told the camera. "Even if we all die —we'll take as many of those bastards down with us as we can."

There was a gleam of determination in Ria's eyes, as she said this, which Xander recognized as the normal Ria. The one she showed to everyone at the Institution.

"I promised the parents something else, though," said Ria. "I said I'd get their kids home, again." She paused. Then gave a dry laugh. "It's the kind of promise you can only give when you know your best friend has a space ship that doubles as a time machine."

Ria raised up a small pill, to show to the camera.

"This," Ria announced, "is water-dissoluble pill filled with tracker nanobots. I've fed one pill's worth to every child taken today. You'll find another pill in the Slayer safe, in the basement of the Institute. I'm sure you remember the combination."

Oh.

Smart.

"Seo will probably know some way to plug this pill into a computer," said Ria, "and use the nanobot's signal to find out exactly where the kids are. You two can swoop in and pick them up. Then bring them all back to Earth. Which is… a relief." She gave a nervous laugh. "For them."

Xander bit his lower lip.

Ria dropped her hand. Stared at the camera, imploring. Her eyes frightened, and her jaw shaking. "Please, Dawn," she said. "If you can't do anything else. I'm begging you. Find our children. Find…" Her voice cracked. "…find my Chris. Please."

Then the recording flickered off.


	20. Chapter 20

Author's Note: Yeah, that last chapter was pretty sad, wasn't it? Poor Ria.

By the way, a little bit of trivia. Ria is named after a character from the Audio-Visuals Doctor Who series, which pre-dated Big Finish, but involved many of the same people. They had a character I really liked, who was also called Ria, but they killed her and I was really sad. So I named my character after that one.

Enjoy!

* * *

"No," Mrs. Gardell said, standing in front of Tommy's room. "I won't let you! You can't!"

James Gardell sighed, hanging his head. "Miriam, Hiskaloph's right," he said. "These 456 — I've seen how powerful they can be. They wiped out Thames House in minutes, using a biological agent."

Miriam didn't move. "Just ten percent, you said," she retorted. "That doesn't have to include Tommy. We can hide him, make sure…!"

"And then what?" Gardell demanded. "They'll just come back and take him anyways! Or take _his_ children." He felt anger at the injustice of the situation flaring up in him. "This is our only chance, Miriam. If we stand by and do nothing, now… what'll everyone else do when the aliens come for Tommy? Will _they_ stand by and do nothing, too?"

Tears sprouted in Miriam's eyes. "But it's… Tommy. We can't let those aliens—"

"We won't," Gardell assured her. Hands on her shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. "I promise. We'll be with him every step of the way. And we won't let those aliens hurt him."

Miriam stared at Gardell. Not moving for several long minutes.

"This is his only chance," Gardell said. "If we don't sign him up… he's doomed. If we do, at least we'll have the chance to fight."

Miriam hesistated a second longer. Then, shuffling, stepped aside.

Gardell stepped forwards, hand on the doorknob, to collect his boy.

"Jim," Miriam said, her voice faint.

Gardell looked over at her.

"It… will work, right?" Miriam asked. "You wouldn't put Tommy at risk if it wasn't a sure-thing that he'd come out all right?"

Gardell thought back through the last few days.

After the way that Hiskaloph, while locked up under the highest level of security, had managed to twist around the nation, force the government to do what she wanted, and make sure there was no way they could possibly send Summers back to the Brits for assassination…

After everything Summers had told him about time travel being possible, and alternate-selves and realities upon realities…

Well, Gardell didn't know what to believe, anymore.

But he knew one thing for sure.

Their children were doomed, anyways. Because the 456 wouldn't stop returning. If Tommy wasn't taken now… he'd be taken later.

So what did Gardell have to lose?

"Yes," Gardell told his wife. "A sure thing. I promise."

* * *

"Buffy?" Willow said, banging on the locked door to the room in which Buffy had hidden herself. "Buffy?!"

No answer.

"What are you doing in there?" Willow shouted. "Are you okay? Buffy, talk to me!"

Once again, no answer.

There was never any answer.

Willow's eyes narrowed. That wasn't like Buffy! Wasn't at all!

Willow turned her shoulder, and slammed it against the door. "Buffy!" she shouted. "If you don't open this door, I'm going to…!"

Willow fell in, as Buffy opened the door. Staring in surprise, as Willow toppled to the floor.

"If you wanted to come in, you could have just _said_," Buffy pointed out.

Willow dragged herself back to a standing position. "I've been saying," she hissed, "for the past day. You weren't responding!"

Buffy seemed impassive.

Just stood there, in the doorway, not seeming to care at all. Didn't even bother to help Willow to her feet.

Behind Buffy was a lab, full of complicated machinery — along with a number of chemicals in test-tubes and vials, along with some slides and lab cultures, that were all propped up in some kind of weird experiment thingy.

"Buffy," said Willow, pointing to the set-up. "What the hell are you doing?"

"My plan," said Buffy.

Willow waited for her to go on, but she didn't.

"And that plan would be…?" Willow snapped.

Buffy shrugged. Then headed back to her work. "It's obvious, isn't it? The 456 want 10% of Earth's children. But the Quantum Crystallizer isn't programmed for children. It's only programmed to eliminate 10% of Earth's population. _Any_ 10%."

Willow felt her blood run cold. "What?"

"Kill off the children, and you eliminate all the possibilities of _their_ children," said Buffy, adjusting one of the test tubes in her lab. "Destroy the human race. That's not good."

Buffy then took a culture and swapped it into the microscope. Adjusted something, peering in at it.

"But if _we _kill off 10% of old people, before the 456 actually _get _their hands on the kids," said Buffy, "we'd trick the Crystallizer. It would think it had fulfilled its mission. And then we defeat the 456 and keep our kids."

"What?!" Willow shouted.

"It's perfectly simple," said Buffy, taking out the culture. "We need to eliminate a useless part of humanity. I'm making a virus that can do that. It makes perfect sense."

Willow raced over, grabbed Buffy up by the shoulders, and dragged her away from her work. "Buffy, what the hell are you saying?! You're going to wipe out everyone's grandparents?!"

"It's the best way to save the children," Buffy said, shrugging herself out of Willow's grip. "Even you have to admit that, Will. We need to preserve the people who'll have children, themselves. Begin the next generation. It's the best way."

"No, it's not!" Willow retorted, reaching out to grab Buffy back. "It's wrong!"

Buffy sidestepped her advance easily.

"It's _so_ wrong, Buffy!" Willow shouted. "And not just wrong in the sense of morally wrong. _You_ are creating a _virus_! There's no way you could know how to do that!"

Buffy gave a half shrug. "It wasn't that hard." She gestured at Willow, and then pulled up something on the screen. "See? I copied the basic structure from something I saw those scientists working on. Back with that thing with Adam. You remember?"

"Adam," Willow repeated.

Buffy continued to click around, showing off her virus from different angles on the screen. "Yes, you know," she said, hurriedly. "The place with all the mad scientists. Iphidrin."

There.

That clinched it.

Willow drew out the concealed gun she'd been carrying since she'd suspected what was going on. Pointed it squarely at Buffy.

And flicked off the safety.

At the sound of the safety disengaging, Buffy froze. Then turned around, slowly, putting up her hands in the air, shocked eyes staring at Willow.

"I knew it was you," Willow growled. "'Made a sonic screwdriver from Wikipedia' my foot!" Her hands were shaking with barely suppressed fury. "So how'd you get here? And _what the hell did you do with Buffy_?!"

Buffy's eyes widened even more. "Will, what are you…?"

"Cut the act, Elizabeth!" Willow snapped. "It was called 'the Initiative', in this timeline — not 'Iphidrin'. So how'd you get here, what's really going on, and where's the real Buffy?"

"It… that was just a slip of the tongue!" Buffy insisted. "I've been feeling all yucky, recently. I must have remembered hearing about Iphidrin from the Doctor, and was just thinking about Time Lordy stuff, so it… I don't know… slipped out. I mean, allow me a few moments of total-brain-fartiness." She stepped forwards, slowly. "Willow. Please. Just put down the gun. Let's talk about this."

Willow pressed down a little on the trigger, and Buffy froze, again.

"Buffy heard of Iphidrin, yeah," says Willow. "But she _always_ screws up its name." Eyes narrow. "And you didn't."

Buffy, for a few seconds, was taken aback. Her jaw dropping open.

"I… I don't…" Buffy said. Shook her head. "But…"

"Don't act so surprised," Willow snapped.

"What do you mean, 'act'?!" Buffy cried. Her breath became a little more panicked. "Look, Willow. It's me. Really me. I promise. I don't know how or why I know the stuff I do now, but… it's really me! Buffy-me! I… I… I can prove it! I remember stuff! Like… when we were in high school, and you fantasized about John Cusack and the rented—"

"Pull the other one, Elizabeth," Willow snapped. "Now what did you do with Buffy?!"

"I am Buffy!" Buffy shouted. "It's me! Will, please. Think about this!"

"Yeah?" Willow said. "Because the _real_ Buffy doesn't know how to make gadgets. The _real_ Buffy doesn't do bio-chemical engineering. And the _real_ Buffy would never, _ever_, wipe out 10% of humanity in order to save a different 10% of humanity!"

"I explained that," Buffy insisted. "I have to…" Buffy stopped. Trailed off, a frown spreading across her face. "No, wait. You're right. I'd _never_ do that."

Buffy looked back at the lab set-up behind her.

And a look of utter horror settled across her face.

"Oh, God," Buffy said. She shuddered. "Oh, my God! I almost…! I nearly…!"

Willow hesitated.

Buffy swung back to Willow. "You're the smart sciency one! How do I get rid of this virus thing without killing everyone?"

Willow didn't know what to think. What to believe. "You… are you…?"

"I'm Buffy, Willow!" said Buffy. "The _real_ Buffy. It's just…" She wrapped her hands in her hair. "It must be the Crystallizer. It's connecting us, somehow! I can _feel_, Willow! The Crystallizer's turning me into everyone I could have been, and… and… it's especially turning me into _her_. More than any of the others. Into Elizabeth!"

"You might just be tricking me," Willow pointed out.

Buffy lunged forwards, yanked the gun out of Willow's hand, and shoved it down on one of the tables. "I don't have time for this!" she said. Gestured at the window. "It's almost light outside. Almost time for the kids to be stolen by alien monsters! And I've wasted all this time working on a solution that I could never use."

"Or maybe you are Elizabeth, and you're just manipulating me so I'll let you go," Willow snapped. "At which point you'll try to release the virus, anyways."

Willow reached for the gun, again, but Buffy caught Willow by the wrists, holding her in place with Slayer-strength.

"The Doctor said that you didn't stop this!" Willow shouted. "Maybe you can't, Buffy!"

"I have to try!" Buffy insisted. "I… have to…"

She trailed off.

Released her grip on Willow's wrists, as she stared out the window. At the ever-lightening sky.

"Maybe I can't stop this," Buffy whispered.

Willow didn't reach for the gun, this time. But she did insert herself between Buffy and it. Making sure that Buffy — or whoever she was — couldn't pick it up and kill Willow flat out.

"Ria's got a plan," said Willow. "She's gathering all the parents together, along with their kids. Once they're transported out of the range of the Crystallizer, they'll fight back against the 456."

Buffy shook her head. "If the beams even transport the parents with the kids. And if, after getting to that planet, they even live long enough to make a stand at all."

"It's better than wiping out a different ten percent of the Earth!" said Willow. "Look, I want you to help us solve this, but… if you've got any Elizabeth inside you at all… we can't trust you. I think… maybe it's better if you just waited this one out."

Buffy turned a harsh eye on Willow. "You still think I'm _her_. Elizabeth."

Willow didn't answer.

Didn't need to.

Buffy threw her arms open. "Want proof I'm me?" she said. "Here's something I know that Elizabeth doesn't: I have a daughter." Her voice softened, at the word. A small smile on her face. "Seo. The most beautiful, wonderful daughter you could ever want." Laughed. "And the most crazy and destructive. She came to Earth when the ghost shifts began. Accidentally let the Daleks into this universe because she was fleeing from the Powers that Be. She's impossible — someone cut out of our universe, rescued from a dying reality by some Doctor-Protecting Super-Entity that Rose…"

Buffy trailed off.

Her facing turning suddenly thoughtful.

And then her eyes lit up. And she spun around, her hands grabbing Willow by the shoulder. "That's it!"

"What's…?"

But Buffy was out the door in a second, racing out the door. "Are the Slayers' most secret, super-duper vaults still where they were when I was around?" she called back.

Willow rushed after her. "Why…?"

Buffy glanced over her shoulder, a grin on her face. "Because I've just worked out how to save humanity."


	21. Chapter 21

Author's Note: Now you can see the effect the US stuff is having on the England stuff. If Buffy hadn't done what she does, in this chapter, Jack would never have gotten out of jail, and the 456 would never have been defeated.

Enjoy!

* * *

In London, Jack Harkness was clanged shut into a cell by the army. He sunk to the bench, his face blank, as he struggled to take in everything that had happened.

Torchwood had been destroyed.

Ianto had been killed.

His secret daughter, Alice Carter, and his grandson, Steven Carter, had been imprisoned alongside him. Used as leverage to make sure he'd do whatever the government wanted him to.

That same government that was selling out Earth's children to the aliens.

Jack had tried to make a stand. He'd fought back against both the 456 and the leaders who were willing to surrender Earth's children to those monsters.

But Jack had lost.

So many children were going to die, now, and… and...

This time, it was all his fault.

A desperate clanging echoed through from the cell beside him. "Captain!" shouted Lois Habiba, through the wall. "Is that you? Captain Harkness, it's me, it's Lois!"

He didn't answer.

All his fault.

"What do we do?" Lois shouted. Clanged again. "Captain?"

Jack dropped his head into his hands.

All his fault…

"Captain!"

* * *

Across the world, armies were out in full force. Taking and grabbing children, forcing the adults to hand over the necessary numbers.

The soldiers hated it.

But most didn't know why the children were being gathered. Thought it was a protective measure. And those that did… understood the alternative was their own children.

Kept their mouths shut.

* * *

Gwen, in Cardiff, knew the truth.

Was helping to save Ianto's family, and all the other children she could.

"Don't make a sound," Gwen said, helping a little girl into a puffy pink coat. "It's like a game, yeah?" She leaned down, put her fingers to her lips. "Fingers on lips."

The girl imitated her, and Gwen smiled.

Rhiannon, Ianto's sister, raced into the room. "Now, no one makes a sound until we get there. You stay nice and quiet, and you get sweets."

"Where is this place?" Rhys asked.

"Down by the field," said Rhiannon. "It's all boarded up."

Perfect place to hide.

They all headed out, to run for the lives of these children. As the military advanced through the streets, searching for children to gather up and take away…

* * *

In the United States, Ria's team had finished handing out firearms.

Ria watched, standing beside her husband and her infant son, as the sky grew lighter and lighter. The deadline approaching.

Everyone around her was confident.

Gung-ho and geared up and ready to fight!

But they all quieted when Ria stepped up to address them. Making sure their rage was fueled at the aliens, not at the army or the human governments.

"You know why we're here," Ria said. Confidence flowing through her. "They're taking away our children. And we're here to show them… we won't let them do it!"

Everyone cheered, thrusting their guns in the air.

"They're taking our children because they think we're weak!" Ria continued. "They think we won't care! That we'll surrender someone else's kids to protect our own." She gestured at the crowd around her. "But they've never faced down an army of desperate parents, have they?!"

More cheering.

Along with shouts of, "Hands off our kids!" and "Go to hell, Osama!"

"They tried to divide and conquer," Ria said. "But we don't divide! _We unite_!" She thrust her gun into the air. "And because of that… humanity will always win!"

* * *

Xander held the recording.

Trying to figure out what to do.

Did he race out and try to stop Ria, stop her from leading everyone to their own deaths? But what if, by saving the adults, he doomed the children?

_You're the best person I can think of to oversee the Institute in a post-apocalyptic…_

Xander shuddered. Even Ria expected this whole world to fall into chaos and anarchy, after today.

What could Xander do to stop that?

"Nothing," Xander realized. Thinking of that Crystallizer. "The apocalypse is coming… and I'm finally powerless to stop it."

* * *

Willow still didn't know what she was doing, Crystallizer tucked under her arm, as Buffy opened up the most secure, deepest basement vault in the whole Slayer Institute. The one where they now kept their most secret and powerful magical items.

Was Buffy doing the right thing?

Was Buffy even herself, right now?

"It was staring me in the face the whole time!" said Buffy. "That Super-Entity Rose created — he made sure I'd see that other timeline, with Twilight! He did it for a reason! Nothing can destroy the Crystallizer — and nothing could destroy the Seed of Wonder!"

She yanked up one of the magical items.

"Except this!" said Buffy, the Scythe gleaming in her hands.

Willow just stood, frozen, in the doorway.

Not sure what to say or do.

"One final wish he knew I'd make," Buffy said, yanking the Crystallizer from Willow and tossing it to the floor. "One final timeline of the Doctor's that he could tweak." She swung back the Scythe over her shoulder, its blade radiating with mystical power. "Ten percent of children saved, and only one life sacrificed to do it!"

Then she swung the Scythe down.

And the Crystallizer exploded into a shower of sparks, blade slicing through its surface.

A wave of energy ripped out from it, as the lights began to fade from the machine. Energy that surged through the Scythe, and straight into Buffy.

Buffy screamed.

And collapsed.

* * *

The instant the Crystallizer was destroyed, the instant it fizzled out...

In London, Alice Carter told Agent Johnson, "If your duty is to protect the state above and beyond any other authority, then the one person you need right now is Jack Harkness."

Johnson thought a long moment.

Then gestured to her troops. And went to release Jack from his cell.

* * *

"No!" Willow screamed.

She felt herself losing it, as Buffy's limp, pale body fell to the floor. Unmoving. Oh, God! Buffy was dead. The real Buffy! DEAD! Willow had lost her, again, just like…

Just like…

"No!" Willow shouted, grabbing Buffy's body up. Summoning all her magical powers. "By Osiris and all the gods of the underworld, bring her back! Hear me, keeper of—"

"I'm not dead," Buffy muttered.

Willow almost dropped her on the floor, she was so startled. "Buffy!"

Buffy moaned, and opened her eyes. "Couldn't you at least check if I have a pulse before you start going all crimes-against-naturey again?" She struggled to stand on her feet. But had to cling to Willow, as she was still wobbly. "I mean, I only blacked out for, like, a second. Not even _close_ to dead."

"I… I thought…" Willow bit her lower lip. Realizing… she'd been caught out trying to bring Buffy back, again. Even though she'd promised she wouldn't. "Sorry."

"Yeah, well, no harm done," said Buffy. "Fortunately for you, I was still alive. And it's not like there was anyone else around whom you could magically resurrect."

* * *

Across the world, in a London morgue…

Like an abnormal and screwed-around-with wrinkle in the fabric of space-time that had suddenly been yanked straight by the magic Willow had invoked…

Alison Korjensky gasped back to life.


	22. Chapter 22

Author's Note: Okay, because I've got a number of comments about this already, I will try to explain how Willow managed to bring Alison back to life, as many people have commented that "not even Willow's that powerful!"

So, here's how I thought of it, while writing it.

First, Willow is using the same spell as she did in the episode where Tara and Buffy were shot (it was incomplete in that episode, too). In that episode, Willow was trying to bring back Tara, but brought back Buffy instead.

Second, Buffy has just used the Scythe (super powerful) to destroy the Crystallizer — a machine specifically designed to alter timelines. There was a massive outpouring of energy through Buffy. Willow then grabbed Buffy, and said the spell.

The energy almost certainly flowed from Buffy to Willow, during that spell, and got used, which is why Buffy revived so quickly, and had no lingering effects from getting fried by mystical energy.

That energy is probably the boost to Willow's powers that she needed.

Also recall that the universe is obviously rebelling against the fact that Alison is dead. Buffy can feel it, all the time. Alison's death shouldn't have happened, and doesn't make sense. Time doesn't want Alison to be dead, due to things changing at the end of the other story. But since Jenny stabilized the timeline, she probably stabilized that point, too, despite the fact that it was messed up. Therefore, time needed a different spark to actually undo the mistake and get Alison back.

Willow's use of the Crystallizer's energies would have been enough to do this. Think about the energy of the destroyed Crystallizer like lightning; an electrical discharge that tries to take the easiest path back to the ground. This time energy needs to find some way to discharge, and since Willow redirected it away from Buffy and assigned it to raise the dead, it discharged through the easiest conductor; Alison Korjensky, whose death was a temporal anomaly.

Ta da!

Alison's resurrection explained!

This makes Alison's fourth resurrection, by my count (see: "The Revenge of Bilis Manger", "The Years that Never Were", "the Chevauchéers").

Buffy and Jack must be rubbing off on her!

Anyways.

Just the epilogue to go, after this chapter! Then we're on to the next story: "Prisoner".

Enjoy!

* * *

The mortician first knew something was wrong when he heard the banging from one of the morgue bins. And the shouting.

Tentatively, cautiously, he opened the drawer.

"What's going on?" Alison demanded, sitting up and glaring at him. "You in charge, here?" She pointed. "Because your boss, that Johnson woman — she's a nutter! She's implanted a bomb into Jack Harkness, and is about to blow up Torchwood, just when the Earth needs them most! And… oi!" Covering her chest with her hands, as she realized she was partially naked. "Eyes up top, mister! No peeking!"

The mortician didn't know what to say.

Couldn't quite understand how to react.

"You… you were dead!" the mortician cried. "Your head was blown clean off! I performed an autopsy on you! You were definitely…"

"Sorry, can we puzzle the whys and hows of this out after we've rescued all my friends?" Alison demanded, wrapping the sheet around herself and then jumping off of the morgue bed. "There's something coming to this planet, you know! These alien blokes, transmitting across the 456! They're going to demand a percentage of Earth's children, threatening massive biological disaster if we don't acquiesce, and…"

"But… but… that already happened!"

Alison trailed off.

Staring.

"What?!" Alison cried.

"You've been dead for days," said the mortician. "We're gathering up the children right now. We've got only minutes left."

Alison's face went pale. "Oh, bugger!" She advanced on the mortician. "Give me some clothes. If this has already started, it's up to us to stop it!"

* * *

In the prison in London, where Jack Harkness had, until recently, been locked up — he and Mr. Dekker were now working to take down the 456. Working on a plan.

As Mr. Decker played back a sound they'd recorded, earlier. Of the 456 screeching.

"That sound…" said Jack.

"It's new," Mr. Dekker confirmed. "And it hurts the 456."

They vaulted themselves across the equipment, working like mad. Alice stood nearby, alongside Agent Johnson, watching as Jack and Dekker worked out how they could fight back against the 456… and actually win.

Steven, Alice's young son, was out playing in the hallway.

"We don't have to analyze the wavelength, just copy it," Jack said, typing at a computer. "Turn it into a constructive wave. That'll crush them." He shook his head. "But we've got no way of transmitting."

"Of course you have," said Dekker.

Jack shot him a dirty look. "Shut up."

"Same way as them," said Dekker.

* * *

"But you said… someone would have to be sacrificed," Willow told Buffy. "I thought… I mean, I assumed that someone was you!"

Buffy frowned. Rubbing her head.

"I did say that, huh?" Buffy winced. "I don't get how I knew, but… it just made sense. I mean, the Crystallizer's destroyed. We can win." Her eyes went sad. "But the timelines in which we lose have already been slotted into place. Events already put into motion."

Willow shuddered. "So… we can't win."

"We _can_," Buffy countered. "But we still have to pay the price."

* * *

In Cardiff, Gwen raced over a hill, children in hand. Shouting at them to run faster, pursued by army men prepared to rip them away from her…

* * *

On the streets of London, a newly resurrected Alison raced down the pavement, trying desperately to think of a way to find Jack or… or… at least someone who might help her…

Then she stumbled.

The information older-Seo had given her… was fading from her head. As if she'd never had it there to begin with!

"What do I do now?" Alison said, cursing herself out inside her head. "What now?!"

* * *

Across the world, children gathered. All waiting at the rendezvous points.

Waiting to be kidnapped and taken away…

* * *

In the United States, Ria Hiskaloph looked down at her watch. Saw the time approaching.

"Ria?" Mark said.

Ria turned. A look of utter terror passing through her eyes.

Then she swept him up, and hugged him, planting a kiss on his lips — and on the head of little Chris, asleep in Mark's arms.

"I'm sorry," Ria whispered. Fought to suppress her tears. "So sorry."

* * *

In the prison where Jack had once been incarcerated, everyone was standing around the machinery that would save the Earth.

But no one was moving.

"What does he mean, same way as them?" Johnson demanded.

"The 456 used children to establish the resonance and transmit their signal," said Dekker. "So we need a child."

Alice shifted, uneasily. Looked at her dad, imploring answers. "What… what does he mean?"

Jack didn't answer.

"Center of the resonance," Dekker told her. "Hoo! That child's gonna fry!"

Jack still said nothing. His face expressionless.

As it dawned on all of them… the only child they had near-at-hand.

Alice's face turned pale. "No!" Turning to Jack. "Dad, tell them!"

"One child or millions," said Dekker.

"We're running out of time," snapped Johnson. "Harkness!"

Jack didn't even look up. Couldn't. Disgust and devastation written on his face… he gave a small nod.

"No!" Alice screamed. Spun on her heels, sprinting towards her son. "Steven!"

* * *

On a field in the United States, a beam of light burst down through the heavens. Just in front of where Ria and the others were gathered together, with their children.

Ria took a deep breath.

"It's time," she whispered. Put on a brave face, stepping forwards. "Let's see what's out there."

* * *

Agent Johnson, with a wave of her hand, had her men secure Alice. Left Alice kicking and screaming, but unable to prevent what was happening, as Steven Carter was brought in and placed in the focus of the equipment.

Jack finished his work.

Alice screaming for her baby, Jack with his hand over the button. Unshed tears in his eyes.

Jack pressed it.

* * *

Across the world, the children froze.

Then began to scream, at the same frequency as the sound Jack had uncovered with Dekker. The vibration of their screams rippling through the air, making all nearby double over and clutch their ears.

* * *

In Thames House, the 456 alien ambassador began to thrash, wildly. The vibrations of the children screaming making him hysterical.

* * *

Steven Carter screamed.

His mind frying before their eyes, as they watched. Blood trickling out of his ears and his nose, and still he kept screaming at that frequency.

"Steven!" Alice sobbed.

* * *

In the United States, all the parents were panicked. Not sure what to do, now.

No enemy to fight. None they could see.

But their children were possessed, again. Screaming, and the parents didn't know why.

Ria didn't know what to do. Had the 456 worked out her plans? Was this their way of getting back at her? Was this how she was going to die?

* * *

Then… half a world away… a pillar of fire raced out of Thames House.

The 456 alien left the planet.

* * *

Across the world, the beams of light cut out. All at once.

* * *

Just outside of Cleveland, where Ria and the others had gathered… utter silence swept across them.

No one said a word.

Just the empty sound of the wind.

As the sun rose on a battle that would never be fought.


	23. Chapter 23

Author's Note: And the end!

Next up: "Prisoner". A short story. Then another short one, that's a little fluffy, called "Three Generations". Then it's full speed to the end of the season! Last story will be called "Line Hopper". Guess what it's about?

Enjoy!

* * *

One Week Later

* * *

Buffy hadn't expected Jack at the front door of the Cleveland apartment she was staying in, courtesy of the Slayer Institute.

But there he was.

With that look on his face that Buffy recognized from herself, so many times — when life throws you something soul-crushing, and you have to bury yourself in work so that it doesn't tear you apart from the inside.

"Ianto?" Buffy guessed.

Jack didn't answer.

Didn't need to.

Buffy had heard what had happened to Ianto already.

Buffy smiled, put a gentle hand on his arm, and invited him in.

"Thought I'd just check and see if you were okay," Jack explained, as he entered the apartment. "But… you look better than you've been in months."

Buffy gave a small shrug. "Yeah, no more headaches," she said. Then, with a little lie, added, "Dunno why. Must be whatever Seo and Dawn brought back."

Jack hesitated. Looking around himself. "Seo and Dawn… they're not…?"

Buffy shook her head. "Off visiting Alison. When they heard about the whole back-to-life magical resurrection thing. And they're going to drop in on Giles — since those government goons released him. You know, just to make sure he's all right."

Jack seemed more at ease. He sat down in a chair at the dining room table, hands clasped in front of him. "Did you tell them…?"

"I couldn't exactly pretend the whole kid-abduction-scare didn't happen," said Buffy, sitting across from him. "I mean, they kind of noticed that Torchwood Cardiff's just a giant crater."

Jack didn't answer.

"But… I'm going slow with the explanations," said Buffy. "Being careful. Picking and choosing details." She looked down at the table. Gave a small laugh. "After all. Tell Seo the wrong thing, and she might run out there, track down the 456, and blow up their planet."

"I wouldn't mind if someone blew up their planet," Jack muttered.

Buffy shot him a pointed stare. "But _not Seo_."

Jack said nothing for a long moment.

Then sighed, leaning back in his chair. "And how was it for you?" he asked. "I saw what happened, here. Saw the news reports. You must be famous by now."

"More like infamous," Buffy replied. Shot Jack a sideways smile. "When the children screamed and then nothing happened and there were no virus-preventing injections and aliens didn't attack, Mitch Philhorn played the whole thing off as a hoax. Apparently, I'm the biggest con-artist in the United States."

Jack didn't answer this.

"I'm guessing the whole stopping-the-aliens part was down to you," Buffy offered. "I mean, it wasn't me. I was the most useless person in uselessylvania. I did nothing."

"You survived," Jack said. "That's something."

And the look on Jack's face told Buffy… she really shouldn't tell him too much about her role in things. What was the use? What would it accomplish?

Making Jack realize that maybe the Doctor — one of the only people he still had to believe in — had some part in this?

Making Jack even more depressed because the 456 hadn't killed Ianto — time itself had done that?

No.

Jack was better off not knowing.

Buffy put her hand over his. Gave him her most comforting smile. "Ianto was a wonderful person," she said. "Miracle worker. Kind, thoughtful. I'll never forget him."

Jack looked down at the table.

Still said nothing.

"If he was here, right now," Buffy continued, "he'd be proud that you were the hero of the day. I know he would."

"I'm not a hero."

Buffy raised her eyebrows at Jack. "You stopped the 456."

"And sacrificed a child to do it."

There was something about the way Jack said that… something about his face and his voice… that made Buffy hesitate. Realizing… maybe she'd missed something else that had been going on with Jack. Maybe…

"The… kid you sacrificed," Buffy put forwards, tentatively. "Did… you know him?"

Jack looked up.

Met her eyes with his own.

"No," he said.

"You're just upset about sacrificing a child," Buffy realized. Yeah, that'd be enough to make anyone flip. "I… sacrificed my boyfriend to save the world, once, you know. Sacrificed tons of Slayer girls to stop the First from taking over the universe. Almost killed my sister to stop the end of the multiverse. That's the price tag of being a superhero. We get to make the world's suckiest sacrifices, for the sake of everything."

"I'm sure your daughter doesn't agree," Jack said. "She's told me — you can always find a better way. And she's right."

Buffy hesitated.

And Jack caught her out. "You haven't told Seo how I did it, have you? How I actually defeated them?"

"Seo loves you," Buffy put in. Met Jack's eyes. "Really."

Jack shook his head, getting up from the table. "After she finds out the truth?" he said, turning. "No. Not even Alice will ever…"

"Who's Alice?"

Jack paused.

Then headed towards the door.

"Good to see you're okay, Buffy," Jack said, pausing by the front door. He glanced back at her. "Take care of yourself."

"Jack…"

But Jack was already gone.

* * *

Buffy didn't tell Seo the full truth about what had happened. What Jack had done. What the Crystallizer really did. What it really was and why it was there.

Never had the heart to do so.

Not even just after Jack had left, when Seo and Dawn showed up, again, Seo all bubbling and excited, and Dawn noting how first Buffy had been always popping back from the dead — and now Alison was the one being all with the magical resurrection!

And Seo was bubbly and excited and took every chance she could to hug her mom tightly.

Relieved that Buffy was well, again.

It was Dawn who noticed it, first. Noticed it in the small notebook where Buffy had been scratching down notes, in the lab back at the Slayer Institute, when she'd been creating a virus to wipe out humanity. Buffy had thought she'd destroyed that notebook.

Dawn picked it up. Flipped through it. Then stopped, her face going pale. "Uh… Buffy?"

Buffy looked up.

Dawn turned around the notebook, to reveal the page she'd flipped to. "What's this about?"

Buffy and Seo both stared at it.

Not sure what to say.

For there, on that page, hand-written in huge ballpoint-pen letters, was the following message:

"I'm coming to get you, Buffy Summers.

—Elizabeth."

And Buffy just knew — it wasn't over.

"She's coming back."


End file.
